Five Forks and a Pen
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: When DCI John Bates is called to the crime scene at the Cerulean Swan it is up to his investigative skills, along with the skills of his forensic scientist Anna Smith, to find the killer in a room of suspects.
1. Prologue: The Story of the Cerulean Swan

It survived more than it should have. Given the lack of men in the area after the Great War and the roaring excess of the Twenties tugging a depression behind it, the place should have crumbled to nonexistence. It should have vanished.

But it survived.

Despite everything the Cerulean Swan survived. It changed hands a few times, had a few more coats of paint now than it did then, but it still stood. Still bid the common man come enter for a drink, a good time, and dancing. Sometimes more than that… but no one mentioned it.

However, on this night, a 'good time' was not in the cards for anyone. After the drinks were drunk and the music stopped, only death remained. So, in the middle of the night, DCI John Bates reported to the scene.

He entered the building, removing his coat to shake off the rain, and turned to the constable at the door. "What do we have here?"

"Apparently there were seven people who broke in here to rob the place. Six got away, we're tracking them as best we can now, and one was killed down here on the main floor."

John craned his head back, looking up toward the hubbub in the glass-cased room. "What's all that then?"

"They were all there when the lights went out and so they're our witnesses to the killing."

"Alright." John turned as someone else entered the door, the man pulling his hat from his head. "Glad you could join us Robert."

"Don't start with me Bates. The rain's absolutely pelting and it's brass monkeys outside. It was all I could do just to get out of my house."

"I'm sure your wife would agree." John sighed, "We've got a number of interviews to conduct and this whole place to canvas."

"I'd be glad if you could do that after I get my team to clean it." Both men turned to see a smaller, blonde woman, entering the Swan with a case in her hands. "It there's forensic evidence to find I'd rather get it before the boots on the ground stomp it all to pieces."

"And you are?"

"Anna Smith, forensic expert." She shook John's hand, "Pleasure to finally meet you DCI Bates. I've heard only good things."

"I'm sorry that I've heard nothing about you in turn, Ms. Smith."

"Don't be. You'll know me soon enough." She motioned to the room. "All mine then?"

"Considering we've a heist with six escaped perpetrators and one dead man I'd say sooner is better than later." Robert patted John's back. "Shall we?"

"If we don't want to be here all day then yes, we should."


	2. With Poison in the Dining Room

John opened the door and sighed at the crush of people packed in the stuffy interior. The stifling heat only increased the further he tried to press to the center of the mob, removing his jacket as he did so. Robert stayed back by the entrance, shaking his head when John tried to summon him forward, and folded his arms over his chest to block the entrance to the room.

Clearing his throat John tried to get everyone's attention. "I'm DCI Bates and I'll be conducting the interviews this evening." Their chatter did not die down so John raised his voice to shout. "Would everyone please shut up?"

The room quieted and John nodded to all of them. "Thank you. I'm DCI Bates and I'm here to start the interviews about the events of this evening. Alright then, now that we're all here I need to understand, from all of you, what happened." Everyone started speaking at once so John shouted, "One at a time."

"What order do you want sir?" A tall man, holding a class of something dark colored with his fingers keeping a still smoking fag from dropping ash onto the carpet. "We're all in a bit of a tizzy here."

"I'm aware and I apologize for that." John pointed to Robert, "My partner, DI Crawley will start with the gentlemen and I'll begin with the ladies."

"Any reason for that?" A slender woman with dark hair and darker eyes raised one of her eyebrows.

"I'm nicer than he is and we don't want to make this any worse than it already is." John rubbed his hands together, "What you've all witnessed, to whatever degree you actually witnessed it, is horrible and I want to make sure we find answers without causing you anymore undue stress."

"How very kind of you." The woman rolled her eyes and John nodded across the room to Robert.

"DI Crawley'll escort the men to another room and run the interviews one at a time. Please don't leave before you've been interviewed or else our dutiful constable downstaris'll have a nice place for you to wait that's not nearly as comfortable as this club." John pointed to the couch, "If the ladies'll please take seats on the couch."

The room cleared quickly and John laid his jacket on the back of a chair. He sucked the inside of his cheek, risking a look through the windows of the Grey Room to see the forensic scientist guiding her team around the body still in the middle of the floor. Turning back to the women on the sofas he took a deep breath.

"I know this was shocking, ladies, but who wants to go first."

"What exactly are you asking us to tell you?" The same woman from before, leaning on her crossed legs, drawled out while rubbing at her forehead. "The lights went out and that was it."

"I guess you want to start."

"I don't mind starting."

John guided them both to the corner of the room and directed the woman to a seat. He took his own chair, facing the woman while flipping open his pad, "Can you start by telling me your name?"

"I'm Mary Crawley." John's eyes widened and she waved a hand, "Yes, I know, it's not a name you hear often."

"Then you're related to DI Crawley?"

"He's my father but we haven't spoken in ages."

"Any reason for that?"

"Not anything dramatic, if that's what worries you." Mary sat back in her chair, "My husband Matthew and I have been busy with our business."

"What is it that you do?"

"We're land developers. Matthew inherited a bit of money from a man who treated him like his son and we used it to build our business."

"Any relation?"

"No," Mary shook her head, "Matthew was good friends with his daughter, Ms. Lavinia Swire, and cared for her father until he died. Stayed by his bedside until the last moments."

"Didn't Ms. Swire stay there too?"

"No, she died a year before her father. Scarlet fever she picked up while abroad doing missionary work."

John nodded, pointing his pencil at the window. "And what were you and your husband doing here tonight?"

"Celebrating." Mary smiled, "We're some of the founding patrons of this lovely place and it's our tradition to come here on special occasions."

"Two questions then, why here and what did you have to celebrate?"

"I've been coming here since I was a child. One of the owners, Mr. Carson, has been a great influence in my life. He used to care for me when I was young." Mary pointed to one of the other women, "That's his wife, Mrs. Hughes. Known her a long time too."

"Are you trying to advocate for their characters, Mrs. Crawley?"

"Would I be out of character to do so?"

"Not at all." John tapped his pad, "I return to my second question. What was your special occasion?"

"Matthew and I just closed a very lucrative deal and we finally signed the papers this afternoon. We came here for a night out since we haven't had one since our son was born."

"How old?"

"He's four now. Bit of a handful but he looks just like his father and that's the most helpful thing for a possibly frustrating child."

"I wouldn't know."

"Are you married DCI Bates?"

"I was but not anymore."

Mary shrugged, "I guess she missed out then."

"You can ask her," John pointed to the end of the far couch. "She's right over there."

"Oh," Mary grimaced, "I wish you luck then. I had half a conversation with her while trapped in this room and I can tell you I'd rather scoop my own eyes out with a melon baller than speak to her again."

"Then you understand a fraction of my pain."

"I think you must've been a masochist then." She took a breath, "I'd have risked a trial to kill that woman."

"I wouldn't." John shook his head, "Could you tell me what happened then, to ruining your celebratory evening?"

"Matthew and I were sitting there, enjoying wine before dessert, when a rather boisterous group near our table got rather rowdy." Mary shuddered, "Some people have no decorum."

"What about the six people that then tried to rob the place?"

Mary frowned, "I'm sorry?"

"The constable at the door told me that seven people broke in here, tried to rob the place, and then left a dead man in their wake."

"Then he's wrong because no one broke in, at least not the way you'd think." Mary shifted in her seat, "The dead man was sitting at the table with six other people."

"Could you identify those people, if asked to do so?"

"They're all still here."

John stopped, her brow furrowing, "Then what would give the constable downstairs the impression that six people got away?"

"No idea but I could tell you that the woman you pointed out was one of them. There were at least three other men I could see and then two others I only saw from the back. A man and a woman."

"What happened then?"

"Three of them vanished, two men and the woman I mentioned, and then the man who died got even louder. He was raucous about something but the others tried to shut him up for a few moments." Mary shook her head, "The lights went out and then there was a choke. When the lights came back on the man was choking on the floor. Sybil tried to help him but the man's face purpled and that was it."

"That was it."

Mary sobered, her face graying slightly. "You could still see the surprise on his face. He didn't see it coming."

"What about the others from his table?"

"The ones who vanished never reappeared and the two other men kept their distance while the woman you said was your wife managed a strangled scream."

"Seeing death can do that to you."

"I haven't seen it enough to know." Mary pulled at her bag, taking the watch out, "Am I free to go? The woman watching my son will want more money since we've kept her into the wee hours and we promised we'd be back before morning."

"If your father's done interviewing your husband than you're free to relieve your sitter because as far as my questions are concerned I think I'm done." John flipped the notebook closed, "You may go Mrs. Crawley but do try to stay in touch."

"You might have more questions for me?"

"We might have more questions for everyone." John stood, "The nature of a case is that we're working in the bind until we know a lot more. We're just starting these questions with what we've got at the beginning as we hope the rest of it susses out the more we hear from you."

"Then I'll see if I remember anything else but mostly I just hope the second half of my celebratory evening I better than the first half was."

"I wish you luck on the second half then Mrs. Crawley." John extended his hand, "And I do wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Maybe Matthew and I should have you for dinner." Mary shook his hand, "After the case finishes of course. We want to discuss how you solved it."

"You've a decent amount of faith in me."

"I tend to think well of policemen." Mary nodded her head at him. "Good evening DCI Bates."

"It's more like 'good morning' now Mrs. Crawley but the sentiment is still well received."

John waited for her to leave the room before turning to the couches, "If I could have Sybil next?"

* * *

Anna dusted the tableware and stepped back, looking down at the body. "You seem to've made a dinner for yourself."

"Do you always talk to the body?" The dark-haired woman dusting the place settings next to her looked up from her work, blowing gently to clear the excess dusting powder.

"As a doctor once told me, you should always talk to your patients as it humanizes them." Anna scanned the dinnerware, "Do we have prints for all the guests tonight Jane?"

"I've got Rose and Atticus taking them as they leave their interviews." Jane moved back from the table, "We've got seven sets of distinctive prints here. One for each place setting."

"And when's Doctor Clarkson coming for the body?"

"Said he'd be sending Mr. Moseley instead." Jane winced, "He's got a home birth the midwives requested his help with. They think it's triplets."

"Lucky them." Anna shrugged, "Or unlucky as the case may be."

"What do you make of him?" Jane walked over the body, crouching down by his face. "Other than the poisoning."

"He's a little too nice for around here." Anna changed her gloves, tucking the used ones into a sack, and bent down on the man's other side to pull his lips back. "Just what I thought."

"How so?"

"Look at his teeth." Anna pointed to them, "He's foreign. This man' never had to see a British dentist in his life."

"What else could you tell me?" Anna looked up, smiling at DCI Bates.

"I thought you were working on interviews."

"I am. I just finished with Sybil Crawley. She said she tried to help him and I wanted to check her story before I asked anyone else anything."

Anna craned her neck up to see the women gathered near the glass of the Grey Room. "I don't think they'll like having to wait much longer. It's already late."

"Or early, depending on how you judge time."

"I work the night shift most days Mr. Bates." Anna poked at the body, "It's early for me but late for most people."

"Are there signs of resuscitation?"

Anna unbuttoned the man's shirt and pulled it back to see his chest. "Compressions and there is slight bruising on the mouth would suggest that Mrs. Branson's story is accurate but I could've told you that without looking at him."

"How so?"

"I grew up with all three Crawley girls and Sybil Crawley-Branson is a nurse and an angel. Her first instinct is to help and serve."

"And yours, Ms. Smith?"

"Dr. Smith is one of the finest scientists I've ever worked with." Mr. Bates turned to the other woman, "I'm Jane Moorsum, her assistant."

"Pleasure to meet you Ms. Moorsum."

"It's 'Mrs.' or 'Sister' if you're feeling professionally inclined."

"You're a nurse?"

"Certified as one but it doesn't pay as well as this does and the hours are better for me and my boy."

"You have a son?"

"Freddie." Jane smiled, "He's the light of my life."

"What about his father?" Anna bit her lip as Jane's face fell and DCI Bates stepped back. "I'm sorry I seem to've asked a rather inappropriate question."

"It's alright." Jane sniffed, "I lost Freddie's father in the war."

"Where'd he serve?"

"The Solomons." Jane stopped, "Did you serve, DCI Bates?"

"I was in Singapore."

Anna nodded her head, "I've heard about what happened in Singapore. It wasn't anything I'd want to experience."

"Did you serve?"

"I was a nurse with the Red Cross." Anna shrugged, "They had me on the boats shuffling our boys back from Dunkirk."

"And you survived?" DCI Bates nodded, "I applaud you."

"I applaud you surviving too." Anna pointed up to the window, "We're not done yet and I know those women are still waiting for you so I think we'd both better get back to our work."

"I couldn't agree more and thank you for your assistance." DCI Bates nodded to both of them, "Ladies, I wish you luck."

"As we do to you, Mr. Bates." Jane answered and Anna smiled until he disappeared. "He seems alright."

"Yes he does." Anna smiled to herself, turning back to the table. "Yes he does."


	3. With Belladonna in the Wineglass

Anna waved the balding man over, "The body's here, Mr. Moseley."

The jittery man walked toward her, holding a case under his arm, and placed the box on the table, "I never thought someone would die in a nice place like this."

"People die every day in every way." Anna opened the case, "Thank you for bringing this and for coming since Doctor Clarkson was occupied."

"It's no trouble. Gave me a chance to bring this out since you haven't needed the poison box in some time." Moseley opened the box, sorting through the bottles to draw out two. "What signs have the body showed?"

"I want to guess but we need to be sure."

"Alright," Moseley bent next to the body, "What conclusions do you draw?"

"Administered through ingestion." Anna pointed to the cup on the table and the plate. "Poisoning is usually ingested and I've not seen any signs on his body that he did anything else to get poisoned."

Moseley tipped a few drops into the dead man's mouth and waited, "Belladonna poisoning."

"Fast acting if I remember correctly." Anna squinted into the man's mouth. "When would he need it administered?"

"What have you heard about the event?"

Anna frowned, "Why would that matter?"

"If he died quickly then it means he consumed more. If it was slow then he's been poisoned for some time."

"I doubt someone makes a scene here if they were slowly poisoning someone." Anna stood, gathering her things. "We need to gather all of this as quickly as possible."

"We can get it packed up quickly." Jane marked a few of the items. "I'll get William and Alfred in here to collect it all."

"And I'll update our DCIs on the poison. It might help guide their investigation." Anna pointed to the body and then to Moseley. "Would you get the body to the mortuary? We need to see what they used for the delivery system."

"I'd put my bets on the wine." Moseley sniffed at the cup, nodding. "Someone dropped belladonna in his drink."

"Would we know who did it?"

"There's no visible skin contact, unlike hemlock, and if they used liquid in a vial for administration then there's nothing to tie them to it." Moseley packed up his case. "I'd suggest we get someone to start looking for a vial or other kind of container."

"Nothing too large."

"I'd guess it all comes down to whether or not they can hide the vial somewhere." Moseley shrugged, "It depends on what the investigators find."

"Or what we get Andy to find." Anna patted Jane on the shoulder. "Make sure the autopsy doesn't start without me, if Doctor Clarkson can afford to wait."

"I'll tell William and Alfred to ask him. He shouldn't have an argument with it. He usually doesn't."

Anna left her team and proceeded up the stairs toward where the DCIs had their interviews. She knocked on the door, entering the Grey Room and motioning for DCI Bates. He smiled his apologies to the woman sitting across from him as he broke off their conversation. Clapping his hands together he nodded to her.

"How can I help Doctor Smith?"

"I've had our expert test the body for poison and he determined belladonna poisoning."

"What else about it?"

"He suggests that we look for a vial." Anna waved a hand toward the individuals in the room. "It might sound a bit impertinent but I'd suggest you think about checking everyone and their pockets."

"I'll look into it." He went to turn around when both heard shouting from the other end of the hall. "What?"

A younger man tumbled out of the room, falling into the wall before raising his hands in defense. Anna ran toward him, hearing shouting from the room he just vacated, and stood in front of him with her hands up. DCI Crawley exited the room with a red face but stopped when he saw Anna.

"Get out of the way Doctor Smith. This doesn't concern you."

"If you injure one of the people you interrogate you'll be in more trouble." Anna warned, turning to DCI Bates, "Perhaps DCI Bates here could handle this interview."

"I don't need someone to step in to stop an interview with my son-in-law."

"Robert," DCI Bates intervened, "You just tossed this man out the door. I don't think you're in your right mind."

"All I did was say that maybe the bloke deserved it." The man on the wall pulled his vest straight, brushing off his jacket sleeves. "Being loud and obnoxious and ruining everyone's night."

"The man died, Branson."

"My name's Tom, as Sybil and I remind you every time you seem to forget." Branson nodded toward DCI Bates. "I agree with Anna's proposal. I'll answer every question DCI Bates has for me but I won't take any more of your accusations that I had anything to do with the death of that cocky bastard."

"You ungrateful-" DCI Crawley charged forward but DCI Bates stopped him.

"Robert, I'm taking Mr. Branson's statements now. It's late and these people want to get home. They need to get home and we need to finish these interviews."

"I'm fine to finish this interview John."

"No, you're not." DCI Bates took a deep breath, "I'll interview Mr. Branson here and you can go and interview my ex-wife."

"Vera's here?" DCI Crawley groaned, "I detest that woman."

"She'll be less antagonistic with you." DCI Bates pushed DCI Crawley toward the Grey room. "Go on. I want to get home before it's daylight outside and you're wife'll thank me for that."

DCI Crawley gave Branson a final scowl before walking toward the Grey Room. DCI Bates rubbed at the bridge of his nose before massaging his eyes. He clapped Branson on the shoulder, "Go back in and I'll finish your interview in a moment."

Branson slumped back into the room he exited and Anna put a hand on DCI Bates's arm. "Thank you for stepping in on behalf of Mr. Branson."

"It's more selfish than that." He pointed back at the Grey Room. "I don't want to talk to my ex-wife."

"That would be awkward." Anna held her arms close to her body, biting on the back of her jaw. "Was she with you, in Singapore?"

"No," DCI Bates shook his head. "She was in Australia at the time, visiting a sister. At least that is what she told me."

Anna frowned then looked at the ground. "She was visiting someone else wasn't she?"

DCI Bates nodded, "I don't know who but I don't think she was even in Australia." He cleared his throat, "I didn't find her again until after the Japanese were forced to release us but by then she'd already taken steps toward our divorce so it didn't matter."

"Then I respect that you have the clarity of thought to now how you would or wouldn't react to seeing that woman."

"I'm not strong enough to handle her, if we're being honest." He checked his watch, "But we're running late and I was serious about the need for sleep."

"I understand." Anna nodded at him, "I also hope the information about the poison helps guide the questioning."

"It'll do more than you know." He bowed his head to her, "Have you found anything else, Doctor?"

"I'm having Jane and our two assistants, William and Alfred, collect the evidence we need for further testing. Mr. Moseley and our other assistant, Andy, already made arrangements to remove the body to the mortuary for the autopsy."

"Have you arranged the time for that?"

"As soon as Doctor Clarkson and I make a time to do it. I would imagine it'll be later this afternoon."

"Will you be up for it?" Anna raised her eyebrows and he stumbled to speak. "I mean, will you have the energy? If you're up all night now how will you make time this afternoon?"

"I'll manage, Mr. Bates." Anna motioned toward the room, "Mr. Branson's waiting for you to finish his interview so he and his wife can go home."

"And I'm sure the remainder of your staff would like you present when you finish in the dining room."

"Let me know if there's any more information you need from us."

"Once we finish the interviews I'm sure the autopsy will give us some other information." DCI Bates stepped away from her, "Thank you for your help in this Doctor."

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Mr. Bates, and the help is a byproduct of our association."

"An association I'm looking forward to continuing."

"As am I, Mr. Bates." Anna winked, "But for now, back to work."

"Needs must." He vanished into the room and Anna smiled to herself.

"Yes they must."


	4. With a Viper in the Grey Room

John clapped Branson on the shoulder, waving him off as Robert exited the Grey Room. By the thunder on the man's face John immediately felt a chill run down his spine. Going up to his friend he nodded toward the Grey Room.

"Something wrong with the interviews?"

"That woman is an insufferable now as ever." Robert jerked a thumb back toward the doors, "She insists on you interviewing her and no one else."

"I can't."

"Then we'll be here all night… and into the next eternity."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "I'm exhausted and she's difficult to handle on a normal day."

"Then you'd best find the energy to treat this like any other day because she's still waiting in that room and we're running out of other people to interview in the meantime."

"What of the other people at her table?"

"I finished with the three men still alive and while they all seemed shaken I don't know what to think of any of them." Robert sighed, "Maybe we should've handled these tomorrow."

"It's already tomorrow Robert." John rolled his shoulders back. "We'll know more once they find that poison vial."

"Do you think they will?"

"We might have to ask those still here for a turn out of their pockets but otherwise I've no leads."

"Maybe you can ask your wife about it."

"Ex-wife."

"She's still referring to you as her husband."

"Her mistake." John clapped Robert on the shoulder, "Finish the other interviews and send them all home once we've got their addresses."

"I already put the constables to it." Robert stopped John, "As for what my daughter might've told you about being here-"

"Your daughter was celebrating with her husband."

"I know but if she said anything about-"

"Robert," John cleared his throat, "While I'm aware you haven't spoken with your daughter in some time she said it was nothing over which I needed to worry so I didn't. Whatever it is has nothing to do with me."

"Thank you John." Robert struggled for words a moment, "Your discretion is… appreciated and I'm grateful."

"Then that's all I need." John slid past him in the space and entered the now almost deserted room.

Standing at the far end, her arms folded over her chest and surveying the scene below with the occasional non-verbal sounds, stood John's ex-wife. He closed the door and she turned to see him there, smile spreading over her face. "Well, well, if it isn't my husband."

"Ex-husband… which must've been easier once you had me declared dead."

"How was I to know that the Japanese kept any of you alive after they took Singapore?" She walked toward him, taking a seat on the sofa while drawing a cigarette from the case in her clutch. "I wasn't going to wait forever for you to come back to me."

"It wasn't forever, Vera. It was four years."

She blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, "It felt like forever and that's all that mattered."

"I guess when you already made yourself comfortable in someone else's bed it'd be difficult to come back to mine." John took a seat on the sofa across from her. "Which is why I'm sure you can understand my confusion when I find you asked my partner to only speak with me and referred to me as you husband."

"You are."

"I was but I'm not anymore." John pointed a finger at her, "You've got someone else filling that role now."

"I do hope you're not about to say something troublingly mournful that'll show me how jealous you are."

"I'd shake the man's hand and thank him from the bottom of my soul if he were here." John extracted his pad and pen from a pocket. "Perhaps you could tell me why you were here and what you saw this evening so we can both leave this conversation as swiftly as possible."

"What did that first biddy tell you?"

"Enough to know that term doesn't fit her since she's younger than you."

"I could see her sneer of judgment in my direction."

"I'm sure that whatever look she gave you wasn't the worst you've received in good company." John consulted his notes, "She did happen to mention your party's desire to make merry was rather distracting."

"I'm sure it was." Vera snorted, "But whatever disgustingly boring evening she had planned could only do to be lightened."

"What were you celebrating so loudly?"

"Richard's company just acquired a rather large portion of his competitor's papers and a foreign contract for his correspondents abroad."

"Richard is?"

"My husband."

"Ah," John made a note, "Does he have a last name?"

"Carlisle."

John raised his head, "The newspaper magnate?"

"That's right." Vera sneered, "I married up."

"Congratulations." John pointed toward the window at their left, "And the deceased man?"

"Kamal Pamuk, Turkish diplomat."

"Excuse me?"

"He's the one who allowed Richard's correspondents into Turkey. They'll be forming up an office there to get information and intelligence for the papers here from all over Asia Minor."

"They don't call it that anymore."

"What do I care what a group of sand pounders want to call their countries?" Vera snorted, stubbing out her fag in the ashtray. "All I know is you'll have a time of it dealing with the troubles the Turkish Embassy'll bring with them at the death of their countryman."

"I'm sure they're frustrations'll only grow when we tell them that your newest and most recently deceased acquaintance was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Vera cackled, "Who'd go to the trouble of poisoning a dandy like him?"

"Someone who carried a vial on them and then dumped the contents into the wine you were drinking as a toast." John flipped the paper to check a note, "Right before the lights went out."

"I hope you're not trying to pin all of this on me."

"Would I have reason to?"

Vera's face grew stormy, "I'm many things, John Bates, but I don't murder people by poisoning them."

"You're right," John sat back, "You just allow their lives to slowly unravel. Tell me, does Richard now have any of those lovely diseases you went to so many chemists to fix when you were married to me?"

"That's none of your business."

"Then perhaps I should tell Richard the burning sensation he's no doubt feeling is because-"

"Say one more word and I'll-"

"We're done." John closed his pad and capped his pen, "You enjoy what's left of your evening and remember, don't leave the city until we're finished with the investigation."

"Why, think I did it?"

"No because I don't have the evidence to prove you did and it's really not your style." John stood, "You're far more about the slow agony. Only someone with a perverse sense of mercy would've spiked Mr. Pamuk's drink with that level of poison."

"Do you really hate me so much?"

"It's funny you should ask that," John went to the door, "Considering your answer to it, when I asked you, was truly so cruel."

"It was the truth."

"Whatever it was," John stepped into the hallway, "It means I no longer have to endure this room with you. Good night Vera."

The door snapped shut and John noticed Robert standing up from his lean on the wall. "Are we done?"

"Did you finish the other interviews?"

"Yes but they're mostly a jumble at the moment." Robert shook his head as they took the stairs to the ground floor. "These interviews were a waste of time."

"Not if I can tell you that the dead man is a Turkish diplomat."

"You've got to be bloody joking." John shook his head and Robert ground his teeth, "Now we'll have to get the Embassy involved and they'll be nothing but trouble to us."

"As long as they don't insist on trying to investigate it themselves I don't care what they think about all this." John watched as a tall ginger-headed man and a blonde man of almost equivalent height finished gathering the materials from the table. "Someone poisoned their man at that table and they deserve to know why."

"More than we deserve sleep?"

"It's how the situation goes Robert." John pushed at his shoulder. "Get home and find some sleep before we have to report this in tomorrow. We'll need all the energy we have for that."

"The list of suspects in this only gets worse when you realize that the lights being off could mean anyone got into this room and then out of it without being seen."

"That's what troubles me." John motioned toward the constable at the door. "Why'd he tell us that the seventh man of a heist ended up dead here and the other six got away if the dead man was part of an existing party?"

Robert hung his head, "I'll question our constable."

"And I'll tell you how the poison entered the glass." John turned to see Anna standing there, holding up a bag with a pen in it. "The vial wasn't a vial. It was this."

"Someone used their pen to poison Mr. Pamuk."

"So that's his name." Anna nodded, lowering the bag, "I'm glad I don't have to keep referring to him as the 'fellow with obscenely nice teeth' any longer."

"That's what you called him?"

"I didn't have a name." Anna examined the pen, "Whoever had this had the money to remove the ink well inside and replace it without an indication of tampering. The seal is immaculate."

"Someone of means then?"

"Someone with the wrong sorts of friends too I'd imagine." John kneaded his eyes and nodded to the room. "All ready for the tramping of boots?"

"We've collected all the evidence we can and I'll have them start on cataloguing and testing it the moment we get back to our laboratory."

"Don't they need sleep?"

"We're the night shift, Mr. Bates. This is our daylight." Anna smiled, "How did your search up there go?"

"As well as to be expected. Everyone judging their neighbor and those with the closest reach having nothing of any substance to say."

"It's late for them."

"I think the wine flowed a little too freely as well." John noticed Robert waving him over. "When you do manage the autopsy with Doctor Clarkson could you please inform me as soon as possible. I'd like to attend. See what else we can gather about our Mr. Pamuk."

"I'll send a message to your office as soon as I have word." She paused, "I'd be relatively certain in saying that whomever administered the poison did so from a short distance."

"What makes you say so?"

Anna indicated the side of the pen. "When I served as a nurse in the war I worked in a ward where we treated some of the men Naval Intelligence trained."

"Did you?"

"That's about all I can tell you." Anna winked at him, "But one of them showed me a version of this same pen. Not this level of quality but similar enough to know that if you depress the button here then the liquid squirts out in a stream."

"What's the range?"

"Less than six inches."

"So someone brings out a pen and then aims it just so to land in the wine?"

"That's the idea." Anna hefted it, "I could consult with someone I know who helped design these and find out who could've made it."

"That's be most helpful." John paused, "You're really prepared for a case like this."

"We've all got our talents." Anna smiled at him, "Though I think your partner is about to become apoplectic if you don't help him."

John hurried a goodbye before striding to where Robert's hands clenched on air as if he was about to strangle the constable. "What's going on here?"

"He let one of them out." Robert seethed, stepping away to gather his breath as John faced the man.

"What's he talking about Laing?"

Laing blanched, swallowing hard enough to bob his Adam's apple. "I… when I first arrived one of the men coming out of the building told me he needed to alert someone. Said they had to know and he'd be right back so I let him go."

"Did he come back?"

"No," Laing shook his head, "In all the commotion of the forensic team and the body and the interviews I didn't notice until he never left again."

"Was he the one who told you about the robbery?"

Laing nodded. "He said the six got away and he needed to warn someone before they got too far."

John faced Robert, "Who's missing?"

""We've no way of telling until we can speak to one of the proprietors and cross the list of tonight's reservations with the list of our interviewees." Robert leveled a finger at Laing, "You'll be hearing about this directly from the Superintendent himself, do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good." Robert snatched his hat and coat from the man's trembling hands. "Going for help. We are the help you berk."

"I'm sorry sir, I-"

"Save your sorrys for when they might actually do a damned bit of good." Robert stomped outside and John sighed.

"What do you know about the man, Laing? Could you identify him again?"

"If we found him sir, I absolutely could."

"At least we've got that." John took his own hat and coat, "If nothing else."

* * *

Anna drummed her fingers on the tabletop as the man examined the pen. "The mechanism's just like the ones I used in the war."

"Exactly the same?"

"I'd say that whomever made ours for us then decided they wanted to capitalize on something a bit more commercial after the war finished." He held it out to her, "This is a quality piece of hardware."

"The American's too cheap to give you something so nice Jack?" Anna took it back, tucking it away into her bag.

"Considering they've only just given us a black man in major league baseball I think we both know the answer to that." Jack grinned at her, "But I doubt your guys had anything much better than we did."

"Then who could do this?"

"The mechanism you need someone with the engineering skills but they wouldn't be nearly as hard to find as whomever you had making this casing around it. I bet…" Jack took the pen back and scribbled on the side of a newspaper. "Like I thought, they found a way to keep it a pen."

"You're saying someone managed to squeeze an inkwell and a poison vial into the same fountain pen?"

"I'm saying that someone took the time to really make this disappear. No one would suspect it and they could've kept it on them afterward like it was nothing." Jack whistled, "Sleek way to keep a murder weapon to yourself."

"Then why not put it back?"

"I'm only the guy telling you how expensive it would've been to make." Jack stepped off the stool, "You're the one supposed to help them find out who did it… and maybe even why."

"Thank you, Jack, for your help."

"Hey, anything for the girl who helped save my fingers in that hospital." He wiggled them for effect, "My career as a pianist and singer in those jazz clubs a few blocks over would've been ruined if you'd given the surgeon his chance at me."

"I think they would've." Anna let out a breath, twirling the pen in her fingers. "But, if you'll take another possible lead, they might be needing a jazz singer and player over at the Cerulean."

"The C Swan won't let someone like me intimidate their guests." Jack shook his head, matching Anna's pace as they walked toward the door, "It's too nice for me and I'm too rough for them. Besides, I like the dig I've got at the Lotus and they're sporting a crowd that's a bit more open minded."

"Then I'll make a point to stop by later."

"We run such corresponding schedules I don't know if you could spare the time." Jack kissed both her cheeks, Anna returning the gesture. "Just keep yourself out of trouble on this. Someone who puts poison in their pens is looking to stay hidden."

"I've got police to keep me safe so I wouldn't worry."

"I worry over my friend and guardian angel." Jack opened the door, "And find a way out of this lab. It's crushing my spirit."

"You've been in worse."

"Exactly my point. Those days are over for me and they should be for you." Jack winked and let himself out.

Anna replaced the pen and jumped a little as Jane entered the room, "You startled me."

"I'm sorry." Jane set the items down. "I've finished cataloguing these and I can confirm we've got a distinct set of prints for at least twenty-five people."

"And those at the table?"

"All seven."

"Good." Anna put the pen down between them. "Then we'll be starting with a match to this one."

She passed another bag, marked for the table and tapped it, "And against these forks next."


	5. With a Body in the Mortuary

Anna stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as a balding man hurried around to arrange tools and instruments just so. He occasionally gave her a nod and she returned it. But her attention only really focused when a man with a white mustache and John walked into the mortuary.

"Ah, Dr. Smith, I'm so glad you're already here." The man with the mustache crossed the room to shake her hand. "I'll be needing your opinion on this."

"Always glad to be of help Doctor Clarkson." Anna used the back of her hand again, checking the clock on the wall. "Though I'm struggling to ignore the hypnotizing call of my bed at this hour."

"We won't take too long here since Mr. Moseley did a wonderful job making this easier for us by already processing most of the details." Doctor Clarkson pointed at the body, "Would you like to tell us your findings, Mr. Moseley?"

"As I suggested to Doctor Smith last night, it's belladonna poisoning administered through ingestion." He pointed to a pile of intestines and Anna raised her eyebrows at the split intestine Mr. Moseley showed them. "They gave him too much for the mania and hallucinations you'd get through longer administration but it would've caused some intense reactions."

"According to the interviews, he choked himself to death." John looked up from her notes and Anna shrugged.

"The tropane would cause a significant amount of delirium so he might have choked himself by thought."

"His heart would then beat irregularly, his breathing would strain, and then there'd be some significant paralysis before death." Doctor Clarkson used a pen to tap on the man's face. "The clench in his jaw would've made it difficult for anyone to help him breathe."

"One of the women tried to help him breathe." John consulted his notes again. "She used chest compressions."

"That'd explain the bruising on his chest." Doctor Clarkson pulled the sheet back enough for them to see.

"Is there any other sign that something else happened to him?" Anna pointed at the body. "Signs of any other kind of abuse?"

"Not that I found and I wouldn't think so." Doctor Clarkson pulled the sheet back. "The Turkish Embassy has requested we have the body immediately prepared and taken back to Turkey."

"I can imagine they want their ambassador back." John shuddered, tucking his notebook away. "I'm sure they were hoping he'd come back a bit more heroically."

"Or at all." Anna pushed herself to stand, "If there's nothing else I can do to help, I've sleep that is calling to me and I need to respond to that call."

"We're done here." Doctor Clarkson extended a hand and shook both Anna and John's before turning to Mr. Moseley. "We need to review the Turkish Embassy's requirements about the body and make him appropriately ready for his return home."

"Thank you Doctor." Anna smiled at them, "You've been very helpful."

"It's my pleasure and I hope you find whomever you need to so the Turkish Embassy decides to make their war on our government for this."

"Whatever Mr. Pamuk was doing in the Cerulean Swan, I'm sure it was not official business." John muttered but Anna nodded with him.

They headed toward the door and John stepped around Anna to hold it open so she could enter the corridor. She waited for him to join her and they walked in step toward the exit. "I wasn't sure you came to the autopsies yourself."

"I did ask you to tell me the time." John's smile with his reminder gave a smile to Anna as well. "I don't want to worry about having to read the notes made in handwriting I can't read."

"Ah, the doctoral scrawl." Anna chuckled, "I guess that's something to worry about when your job is already difficult enough."

"I will say that I'm not sure where to start when there's a Turkish representative waiting in my Superintendent's office hoping we have an answer as to who actually killed their ambassador."

"I can imagine that's difficult." Anna paused before the door, "I was hoping you'd call on me if you need anything in this case."

"Are you afraid I'd call on someone else?"

"It's more who might call in your place." Anna cringed, "You work very closely with Robert Crawley and he's… he's not in a place to speak with his eldest daughter at the moment."

John frowned, "So he said and so she intimated when I interviewed her last night."

"And?"

"It's none of my business but I am genuinely curious as to why they're not on speaking terms." John pushed his hands into his pockets, "However I'm more curious as to why you're mixed up in all this this."

"Mary Crawley's a friend of mine and, as such, I'm privy to personal details about her life I'd fear her father might try to coerce out of me." Anna slipped her coat over her shoulders, drawing her gloves on to give her time. "I like him, as a person, but I don't want to be caught in the middle of a family feud."

"Ah," John nodded, wrapping a scarf around his neck and playing with the hat in his hands. "You want to avoid injuring his pride as much as you want to maintain her confidence."

"Precisely." Anna went to turn the knob on the door but John beat her to it and held it open for her. "You do know how to spoil a woman Mr. Bates."

"I'll be honest, I should be more afraid that you're calling me holding the door for you spoiling." He followed her out of the building and onto the bustling street. "But I believe I've delayed you from sleep long enough."

"It's the job." Anna went to walk away but stopped, digging into her bag to extract the evidence bag with the pen. "I had my friend investigate this and he suggested a contractor worked on it."

"What made him so sure?"

"He used a similar model in the war, as I mentioned, but he said the design, style, and execution are much improved. Suggested that someone with that kind of craftsmanship might've taken their skills to the private sector once the government had no more use for them."

"You mean someone whose work is now classified by the SIS?"

"I think they're called MI6 now."

John waved a hand, "Whatever they're called, you're suggesting they've got a rogue scientist developing these for commercial use?"

"Maybe not rogue but I think someone decided to market their tools to a very specific group." Anna shrugged, "It'd be worth investigating."

"I'll make a note of it. I've got to have someone I know who once worked with me who might know something or someone." John pulled out his notebook, jotting down a quick sentence or two before facing Anna. "Now I've really distracted you."

"It's information that'll help your case." John took the evidence from her and Anna adjusted the straps of her bag on her shoulder. "We're still comparing fingerprints but it's a slow process. There are twenty-five different sets and we're using our most sophisticated tools."

"Which are?"

Anna snorted, "Our eyes. Poor Jane told me she took a short nap and all she could see were loops and whorls."

"I'd say she is rather unfortunate but better loops and whorls than the faces of the dead." The air between them seemed to freeze. Anna dropped her gaze as John stumbled for words. "I'm sorry, that was… unacceptably depressing."

"Do you see faces from the war too?" Anna kept her voice quiet but even in the noise of the street she saw in his face he heard every word. "Because I do sometimes and I don't sleep afterward."

"I can't tell you how many books I've read because I've almost incurable insomnia these days." John shivered and pointed across the street, "Might I tempt you with some tea? I've a feeling this conversation's not one for us to continue in the cold."

Anna flicked her head both ways and then hurried across the street with him to enter the teashop. They found a corner, away from the door, and John drew out the chair for her. She let the smile spread over her face and took it, tugging her gloves off one at a time. "You just can't help but be a gentleman can you?"

"I'm my mother's son." He unwound the scarf from his neck and shrugged his coat back over the chair. "Though, if I were being as polite as she insisted I should be, I'd have already let you go home and stopped delaying your rest."

"I've still got a bit of freewill, Mr. Bates." Anna smiled at the waitress, "Pot of tea please and your chocolate biscuits."

John cleared his throat, searching fruitlessly for a menu a moment before shrugging. "That'll be fine."

As the woman walked away John directed his focus to Anna and she shrugged, "I'm at the mortuary frequently enough that I've need to stop by for refreshment."

"Are you certified to be of aid to them?"

"I am them in other situations." Anna played with the fingers of her gloves. "I'm the forensic expert and, as part of my training, I studied as a doctor."

"Hence the salutation."

"Yes," Anna let the gloves alone, pushing them to the side of the table. "When I was a nurse, during the war, I always wanted to do more. I wanted to help all those suffering and realized that there was a lot I could do but when they needed more I couldn't help them. So I applied to be a doctor."

"And?"

"They weren't keen on it but with the recommendations of the doctors I worked with in the war and my commanding officers I finished the course as third in my class." Anna smiled, "I wanted first but I had a bad bout of flu and missed a set or oral examinations no one was allowed to repeat."

"But you succeeded?"

"I did." Anna sighed, losing her focus as she stared at the wall. "And then I realized there was a new problem now. It wasn't like the war anymore because the war had changed."

John frowned, "I don't understand."

"It wasn't about keeping people healthy anymore, that wasn't enough for me." Anna hurried to explain, "I think people deserve health and long life, please don't mistake me, but I also think that… we're fighting a different war now and what I wanted, in the field, I still want."

"To help the suffering?"

Anna nodded, "Those on the streets suffering in fear of killers and violence. It's not like the battlefield where you knew the direction of the enemy and we simply battled back and forth to gain our advantages. Now it's about the shadows we want to face with courage instead of jump with fear."

"Aptly stated." John sucked the inside of his cheek, "I think that's why I returned to police work after the war. Nothing else could keep me using the skills I honed to an edge then."

Anna went to say something but stopped as the waitress deposited the cups and pot between them, the plate of biscuits sitting delicately on the edge of the table, before she waited. John spoke first, "Thank you. I think we'll be alright now."

The woman walked away and Anna went to speak again, "I don't know if this is an impertinent question, but you mentioned you were in Singapore."

"Yes."

"And that the Japanese released you."

John turned their cups over and poured the pot carefully over the delicate china. "I've a feeling you've a question at the edge of your tongue that you're almost afraid to ask."

"What did you endure?"

John stopped, finishing the pour and setting the pot to the side to meet her eyes. "I don't think you want to know."

"Normally I wouldn't ask but…" Anna pulled at her fingers and then occupied them holding the cup to rotate it slowly in her grip. "Seeing the dead doesn't bother me, I do that every day, but that young man lying on that table reminded me of all those other men I cut open and sewed back together. The ones I had to help send back to their mothers with all the life shot or blown out of them. It reminded me of what we all suffered and I… I find myself looking for someone to talk to about what happened to me."

He nodded, eyes widening a bit as if realization dawned with a literally increased perspective. "You did say you were at Dunkirk."

"I watched them bomb those ships, Mr. Bates. I almost drown on one of them. If I hadn't been near the door myself I would've gone down with my boat." Anna turned her gaze to her cup but the dark liquid triggered the sounds of muffled screams, howls, and the rush of heat from burning oil. She forced herself to look up, "I know it's not something anyone talks about without turning to a flag and speaking about the salvation of the Empire but…"

"You still wake up with nightmares." John started and Anna noted that while his eyes were on her he was not seeing her. "You still hear them in your sleep. You still pace endlessly and have nights where your bed is too comfortable or your kettle too quick or the safety of your home feels like a trap. You almost want those noises and discomforts to remind you it happened and wasn't just a horrible dream you had with the rest of the world."

Anna nodded, "Yes. I want to know I'm not alone and that sounds ridiculous but-"

"It's not ridiculous." His hand covered hers on the handle of her cup and their eyes finally met, the depth of their souls drawing the other to a place they could share. An otherwise unattainable understanding they sought but never found until that moment. "I have it."

"I think many people have it but we don't know how to have it together." Anna sighed, "It's why I turned to forensics. I felt I could use my skills to battle the shadows for others and myself."

"I needed that too. Give my mind something it could understand when everything else collapsed around me."

"I forgot," Anna winced, "You divorced shortly after the war."

"That was a blessing given that even if we had been on the same page before the war, I was much altered by what happened and I couldn't have been what she needed… much less what she wanted." John sighed, sipping at his tea and Anna followed suit. "The Japanese weren't… friendly. Not in their tactics during the battle nor when they took us prisoner. All I can say is that I was glad I wasn't Chinese."

"Why not?"

"They slaughtered any of the Chinese they found and drove the rest from Singapore." John closed his eyes, "It was genocide, in my opinion, but I think it had more to do with a deep hatred their peoples have for one another."

"That was it?"

"Hatred doesn't need more justification than that." John continued, tracing a pattern on his plate and idly picking at a biscuit without actually eating it. "But they got us back to Japan and put us in one of their camps. Those of us who survived that long anyway."

"I've seen the photographs from the camps in Germany and Poland." Anna's voice almost echoed in her own head but too quietly to be heard. "I even treated a few of them and I never could've believed the kind of depravity that would allow one human being to treat another so abominably."

"It's a surprising reality when you recognize that war, for as much as we say we've civilized it, has no rules and makes monsters of men." John took a breath, "There was an American in our camp who'd been an Olympic athlete and one guard, we called him The Bird, brutalized him. It was the most difficult thing I've ever watched."

They were silent a moment before Anna spoke. "There was a man, he'd crawled on top of a landmine and then moved…" She shuddered, "There was nothing we could do for him but I sat with him until he passed in the most agonizing pain I'd ever heard. The whole time he pleaded for his mother or Jesus to take him away."

"There's no Jesus to take him away."

"I disagree." Anna swallowed, "For all those who say God abandoned us when we went to war I argue that we won because we had God to help us."

"What would you tell the Japanese about their loss then? That God wasn't on their side?"

"Wouldn't their treatment of you indicate they're not on His side?" Anna sipped at her tea, now lukewarm. "For all the agony I endured, I also witnessed some of the most beautiful miracles I could ever imagine. Each of them bearing the hand of God."

"Not me." John stirred a spoon in his tea but he added nothing. "I was a tunnel rat, trying to escape the prison camps, but they caught me. When they beat me and those trying to escape with me…"

Anna waited, noting the tremor to the spoon and the quiver in his hand. "They beat me until I couldn't stand and then forced me into stress positions. One of them, when I was pulled back into a kneeling position that tied by wrists to my ankles, jumped on my leg. It shattered the bone and since there was only rudimentary medical care it never healed correctly. It's why I limp."

"I'm so sorry."

"I was the lucky one." He managed a bitter laugh, almost sipping his tea but lowering it before the cup even reached his lips. "They took the other men's lives."

"Why would they leave you alive and kill them?"

"Because, with my leg shattered and me trapped in that position, it was more torture to watch them go down the line and shoot eat and every man between the eyes. All five men, one at a time, until they were bodies in the dirt in front of me."

"They killed those men to torture you?"

"They didn't dare do anything worse." John shrugged, "I was an officer and I could speak Japanese so they needed me as a translator to the other men."

"What kind of people want your suffering like that?"

"The same kind of people who create large ovens to bake people and pits where they can shoot them in a line so they fall into their convenient graves." John closed his eyes, "I offered myself in exchange, using the honorific form, and they denied me in the lowest form before telling me the punishment was their deaths before me. So I could bear the responsibility for the lives I lost."

"What happened then?"

"I never tried to escape again and it just proved their methods were effective."

"They're brutal and cruel."

"As a people they're very proud. It was war and we were the enemy. They signed no agreement as to how to treat captured soldiers so they did as they wished. And their pride wouldn't allow surrender of their own soldiers so they believed us weak and useless."

"They didn't surrender?"

John shook his head. "They'd kill themselves before they surrendered. It's why the Americans had to drop two bombs on them. The first because no one believed their warnings. The second to prove they would do it until they ended the war."

"There was nothing more terrifying than that moment." Anna shivered, "I remember hearing about it and not believing it."

"If I hadn't seen the faces of the guards I wouldn't have believed it either." John sighed, "Some say it was a mercy, dropping those bombs. And in a way it was because it prevented the possible extermination of a race to stop a war. But… I can't feel entirely well about it."

"I don't think we're supposed to feel well about something like that." Anna finished her now almost cold tea and then sighed. "I'm sorry if I dredged up some horrible memories for you."

"We've all got horrible memories that we need to rake over occasionally or we forget we're human." John consulted his watch. "But I've taken too much of your time."

"And I yours." Anna stood, pointing to the remaining biscuits. "Do you want one for the road?"

"I've not got a large sweet tooth." John held out his napkin to her. "Take them with my compliments."

Anna tucked them away, "Thank you. I've got quite a sweet tooth."

"Then it was my pleasure." John unfolded the requisite bills, leaving them on the table. "And, for all the darkness we shared at this table, I find myself remarkably lighter."

"I guess bringing our pain to light freed our souls a bit." Anna tightened her gloves on her fingers and secured her coat against the cold. "I still jump at loud noises that I'm not ready for."

"Ducking for cover?"

Anna nodded, teeth chattering the second they stepped into the wind. "I've got it now where I don't try to hide under the nearest large surface but I still get tremors in my hands. It's like all the noise is back and the memories flood me."

"I've found myself curled in my wardrobe a few times thinking I'm back in solitary or laying on the floor because I moved from the bed." John stuffed his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the wind. "If… If you ever need someone to tell again, I'd like to be the ear for you."

"As long as you'll extend me the same courtesy." Anna held out a hand to him. "It's lovely to know I'm not alone in the world anymore."

"Especially not with our thoughts."

"Especially not." Anna took her hand back, sliding it slowly from his. "I wish you luck with the Turkish Embassy."

"Thank you." John bit at his lip, "Other than your friend who gave you the pen, do you have anyone else you know who still works in that world?"

"I might have one or two. They've never said but…"

"But you'd know." John patted his pocket, the outline of the pen showing a moment. "I'll see what we find."

"Thank you." Anna set her feet to walk away, "And I do hope you find the guilty party."

"I hope we find him." John tipped his hat to her. "Until next time, Doctor."

"Until next time, Detective Inspector."


	6. With an Ambassador in the Office

John entered the building and hurried out of his coat as Robert, approaching as if someone whipped at his heels, hissed at him. "Where've you been?"

"Getting this." John held up the pen. "The autopsy was long but not very informative. We only know that he was poisoned by belladonna and it wasn't a gentle way to die."

"Mr. Napier, from the Foreign Office, is here."

John frowned, "Wasn't he there last night?"

"Yes, which only makes this more difficult and it's why Flintshire's here himself."

"The Super's here?"

"Yes so we'd better get bloody moving or the Turkish Ambassador's going to make hell for them and it'll trickle down until someone's making hell for us." Robert propelled John toward a room.

They entered to see a balding man, with a magnificent white beard, addressing two men in chairs. All three heads turned toward them and the two men in chairs stood while John tried to sort out how his coat hung on his arm. The man closest to them, with a square jaw, stepped forward and shook both of their hands.

"I'm impressed you're both up and about given how late you must've been at the Cerulean last night."

"This isn't the kind of case that we'll leave to anyone but our best, Mr. Napier." The white-bearded man spoke, jerking his head to get John and Robert moving his direction. "I've every confidence in the dedication of our fine detective inspectors here."

"As do I, having had the…" Napier made a face, a hint of a smile that left no sensation of mirth to the conversation. "I wouldn't say 'pleasure' is the right word to describe our meeting but it wasn't as painful and it could very well have been. I'm immensely grateful it wasn't."

"As are we. And, may I say, you were the picture of professionalism." Robert added and John pulled out his notebook to take down notes from the meeting.

"I hope so. I represent the Foreign Office and, for the moment, I'm here as a personal attaché to the Turkish Ambassador." Napier pointed to the man next to him and John noted how the man eyed the notebook in his hand.

"It's just for notes." John assured him and the man shifted in his chair.

"This isn't exactly an official meeting so there won't be any notes needed. What we say here is in confidence."

"Between five different people?" John eyed the white-bearded man but he nodded and John tucked the notebook away. "If Superintendent Flintshire thinks it's unnecessary than we'll have to keep this conversation between the five of us."

"It's best that way." Napier clacked his teeth together, "This could be rather embarrassing for… both of our governments, to put it bluntly."

"And mildly, if we're giving definitions to the gravity of the situation." Robert coughed, "A representative of your government was murdered."

"Only those in this room will know the truth of that." The Turkish Ambassador flicked nonexistent lint from his trouser leg. "There's no need for anyone else to be involved in this and it's in the interest of my government's continued association with Great Britain that it remain that way."

"There are people who saw him die, sir." John shuffled in place, "They'll know the truth."

"What they'll know is that a man they've never met suffered a reaction to something and perished. It's tragic but I'm sure you know of people who die in freak accidents all the time."

"With any due respect, this wasn't someone choking on a bit of bread. This was a murder." John reached into his jacket pocket but Robert grabbed his arm to stop him.

"What it was, Mr. …?" The Ambassador waited and John dropped his arm, grinding his name through his teeth.

"Bates."

"Mr. Bates," The Turkish Ambassador stood, folding his coat perfectly over his arm. "This was a tragic accident. The body of my countryman will be returned to me in due course and I will accompany it back to Istanbul by week's end. All else regarding your… investigation is a moot point. I'm sure you can explain to those who witnessed this tragic accident that it was just that, an accident."

John did not answer, only glanced over at Superintendent Flintshire as the man stood to shake the Ambassador's hand. "We'll do what's best, Mr. Ambassador."

"I'm sure you will." He buttoned his coat and nodded at Napier. "I'll be outside Evelyn. I'm sure there are a few things you need to remind them about."

He left and John ground his teeth, missing the first part of Napier's next statement. "… It's not the best of circumstances but I'll have to ask you, for the moment, to let the investigation lie."

"That's not a good idea."

"In a climate like this one, Superintendent Flintshire, there's only going to be trouble that comes from this. Trouble for anyone who wants to suggest a country as ravaged by war as Turkey lost one of it's rising stars in a murder."

"Is that the official word from the Foreign Office?"

"I'm sure you're aware that the Foreign Office doesn't want to have to pass down any official word."

"Yes." John muttered, blinking when he realized everyone heard him. "The Foreign Office likes everything very neat and tidy, don't they."

"Mr. Bates…" Napier stopped himself, buttoning his jacket to give a moment's distraction. "DI Bates, I respect that you've a job to do. If there's a way for you to pursue this… with as light a foot as possible I'd suggest you take that initiative."

"Is that officially from the Foreign Office?"

Napier managed another mirthless smile, "We'd be very grateful if you'd be willing to give us whatever information you manage to find." He paused, his eyes narrowing, "If there's information to give."

John held Napier's gaze, the pen burning a hole in his pocket, but shook his head. "Nothing concrete outside of the autopsy. It was belladonna poisoning."

"So, a tragic _accident_?" Napier winked at John and then shook Superintendent Flintshire's hand. "I wish I could've said this meeting was a pleasure as well but…"

"We're the police, Mr. Napier, it's never a pleasure to meet us."

"Nor those in my line of work." Napier forced his arms through his coat and nodded to them all as he retrieved his hat and left the office.

The moment he was out of rang Flintshire rapped his knuckles on the table and motioned John and Robert to the recently vacated chairs. "I do hope you're not stupid enough to believe that a Turkish diplomat was poisoned at the Cerulean Swan because he ate the wrong thing by accident."

"Belladonna's not a dish on their menu and given he drank it I don't think it's what they're adding to fine wines or celebratory champagnes these days." John reached into his pocket and withdrew the pen, handing it over to Flintshire. "I consulted with someone who told me that's a refined model of a similar pen used during the war."

"I've seen these." Flintshire examined it and then handed it back to John. "Better than the ones I saw developed by the SOE but I guess that's industry for you."

"My contact says that whomever made it's been doing private work to make it of this quality." John tucked the pen back into his jacket. "I've got a few people I knew from the war who might be willing to kick dust in that direction."

"See what they'll dig up for us without making too much noise." Flintshire rubbed his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "What was Napier doing there last night if he wasn't eating with our dead diplomat?"

"According to my interviews he was meeting with three other men," Robert flipped open his notebook to consult his scrawl. "Lord Gillingham, a Charles Blake from the Home Office, and a Henry Talbot of no particular affiliation."

"Did they say why?"

"Business deal in the works, apparently." Robert tucked his notebook away. "I could ask more questions of the three of them but I very much doubt Tony Gillingham's going to give us any details without a solicitor present, Charles Blake will hide behind bureaucracy, and Mr. Talbot… I don't even think he had a clue what was going on."

"Then it seems our only lead is a pen." Flintshire shook his head, "What about the others at his table?"

"They're a mixed bag." John bit the inside of his cheek, his trying not to meet Flintshire's.

"I expect you've got more to say there, Bates, than you're willing to share with me but I promise you, withholding's not going to be good for you."

"His ex-wife was there sir." Robert answered, cringing and trying to give John a helpful glance. "She was at the table with Mr. Pamuk."

"So he's got a name?" Flintshire huffed, "I was worried I'd have to keep referring to him as the 'dead diplomat' until it became rather obnoxious."

"He's got more than a name." Robert's teeth ground a bit and now John took his turn to wince. "He was the one who accosted Mary."

"I think I need to examine the entire guest list at the restaurant from the night in question and then wonder if I should assign someone else to this case."

"There's no one else for this, sir." John ventured forward, putting a hand on Robert's shoulder. "We've got the experience, we've got the partnership, and you know that if you hand to anyone else they'll make unwanted noise."

"I don't answer to the Foreign Office."

"But they've got friends to make our lives difficult if we push back." John took a breath. "Let us handle this, sir, and I guarantee we'll get to the bottom of it before anyone even knows we were looking."

Flintshire stared them down another minute before sighing and waving his hand. "Fine. But if I get even the slightest whiff that either of you are getting yourselves into trouble then I'll take that Ambassador's advice and shut it all down. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir." John stood, slapping his hand on Robert's shoulder to get the other man to move as well.

They hurried out into the corridor and Robert stuck his finger in John's face. "You don't have any contacts from the war."

"But Flintshire doesn't need to know that."

"He should."

"No, not if we want to keep the people who are helping us in our corner." John shrugged at Robert's frown. "Look, the reality is that we're outmatched. It's the two of us fighting off the Turkish, who won't believe someone killed their delegate, the Foreign Office who thinks friendship with a defunct country that's just a sleeper nation for Stalin will stop him blowing us all to Hell, and the other twenty something people in there who hoped they'd go their whole lives without seeing another dead person in the same room with them. We don't need to show our hand just yet."

"Will you at least tell me who gave you that pen?"

"The doctor did." John grabbed his coat from the back of a chair, "And she's the one with friends who used to work in this sort of thing."

"She's got friends like that?" Robert snorted, "I never expected that from Anna Smith."

"Then I guess you never really know people do you?" John checked his watch. "We need to examine the scene again."

"It's still under quarantine and we haven't lifted it."

"Did we ever get the identity of the man that never came back from Constable Laing?"

"No. He thinks it was a younger bloke and a few people mentioned a younger man at the table but that's not much to go on. Half the population of London's young these days."

"Maybe we get Laing to come back to the Cerulean with us, see what it picks up." John shrugged at Robert's raised eyebrow. "What could it hurt?"

"It could ruin our comment to Flintshire just now that we're going to keep a light foot about all this."

"You think Laing steps heavily?" John turned over his shoulder to watch the constable, timidly sorting through documents with a care and precision long lost by other older officers. "He'll be fine."

"He still jumps at loud noises."

"And I hate small spaces." John glowered at Robert, "We've all got our demons to carry with us as we go."

"I didn't mean-"

But John moved across the floor, catching Laing's attention. "Busy?"

"It's a matter of perspective sir." Laing pulled his shoulders back, "How can I help you?"

"You said, last night, that one of the men left early in all the confusion." John pointed between himself and Robert. "If we took you back to the scene do you still think you could recognize him?"

"If he were there sir I could pin him down myself." Laing bit at his lip. "The Superintendent chewed me out for last night sir and I'm sorry it happened."

"We're not perfect, none of us." John motioned toward the door. "Grab a coat or something and get a move on. We've got to take another look at the scene."

The three of them loaded into Robert's car and hurried across London. John squinted up at the sky and then settled back into his seat, shaking his head. "I promise you that smog'll only get worse."

"They say it could blanket the city one of these days." Robert parked outside the Cerulean Swan and waited for them all before walking toward the doors. "Imagine how much harder this case would be then."

"I don't want to." John and Laing entered the building, examining the floor as Robert joined them. "Laing, I want you with me while we scour this place. Robert, take a turn around the floor and tell me what you see."

"See how?" Robert walked around the edge of the room, his hands in his pockets. "Like a killer or like a patron."

"Like a killer." John led Laing to the table, circling it while the other man stood there. "If you wanted to kill someone by poisoning their drink, Laing, how would you do it?"

"Excuse me?" The three men stopped in their tracks as a younger man approached. "We're not open and you need-"

The man's eyes widened and John noticed Laing's slight nod. In a flash the younger man dodged between tables, running for the door. John followed, leaping over a chair, but Robert tackled the man sideways. They skidded over the floor and John reached them to help Robert pull the man from the floor.

Laing joined them, pointing to the man. "That's him. He's the one who ran out last night saying that there were six others who escaped."

"Six others?" John helped the man to a chair, taking one across from him while Robert's hand stayed tight on the man's shoulder. "I'll guess that was a lie."

The man looked between the three faces around him before nodding.

"Then," John interlaced his fingers. "Would you be so kind as to tell me exactly why you ran from here last night?"

"And why you lied to me." Laing stepped forward but John put a hand on his arm. "Why say there were six others?"

"I…" The man stuttered, swallowing so hard his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "I did it because I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"James?" They all looked up to see the older couple who ran the Cerulean approaching them. "What's going on here?"

"Mr. Carson," John stood, extending his hand to shake. "We're just taking another look here and Mr. …?"

"Kent. Jimmy Kent."

"Jimmy Kent here was just giving us his opinion about last night." John put his hand on Robert's shoulder and the other on Jimmy's to keep them silent and in their places. "We'll only take a moment."

"Just remember that there's work to be done." Carson eyed the group and raised an eyebrow over his imposing nose.

"Don't worry Mr. Carson, I'll get right on it." Jimmy waited until Carson went back to his offices. "I can't let him know what happened. If he knows then I'll lose this job and I've not got another."

"Then tell us what had you saying there were six others?" John eyed Jimmy but he only shrugged.

"It was the first number I could think of."

"Because it was the number of people at your table?"

Jimmy nodded, "I didn't want to be questioned because I didn't want to lie and I knew if I told you the truth I'd be in even more trouble."

"How so?"

Jimmy looked down at his feet and then up at John. "I've… helped do some things that would lose me this job."

"What kinds of things?"

Jimmy just shrugged. "I've done things to help out a friend that might put me in a dangerous position."

"Be more specific."

"I help… I helped with Carlisle's operation."

"Richard Carlisle?" John flicked his eyes up at Robert, who only shook his head. "What kind of operation?"

"I don't know. I only had a small part on all of it. I just snuck extra alcohol or helped plan a few meetings. I was only at that table as the server and then they invited me to take a drink. Next thing I know the man's choking and I needed to get out of there before Mr. Carson caught me. I ran for the door and then doubled back to give an excuse for why I was late."

"And that's all?"

Jimmy nodded, "All I can say is whatever reason they all met that night was about some kind of operation that they all take part in. I don't know what it is or what it all means but I know they wanted the Turk out of it."

"Why, what'd he do?"

"I don't know but he wasn't going to do it anymore." Jimmy looked around the circle, "What does that mean for me?"

"It means," John patted a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. "You're our informant now. You hear or see anything else attached to this case you tell us. Understand?"

"I…" Jimmy looked at each face. "If I'm seen…"

"Then don't get caught." Robert shrugged, leading them away. "It's better than prison."

"Prison?" Jimmy swallowed so hard he almost choked and John slapped his back. "I can't…"

"That's right because they'd eat you alive in there and you'd not come out the same." John bent down, "So we'll keep this between us, yes?"

Jimmy nodded violently. "Yes sir."

"Perfect." John joined Robert and Laing, "He's going to be difficult to handle."

"I could manage him sir." Laing held up a hand and the two DIs looked at him. "It'll be no problem and if I take this area on patrol then…"

"Then it wouldn't be so odd for you to drop by here and occasionally speak with the employees on your rounds." John sucked the inside of his cheek and shrugged at Robert. "Allows our focus elsewhere for a bit."

Robert leveled a finger at Laing. "If you ruin this then it'll be your ass they hang out to dry and not ours. Understand?"

"I won't let you down again sir."

"Better not."


	7. With a Spook in the Shadows

Anna tucked her hands into her armpits, trying to sandwich her gloves between her body and upper arms in an attempt to keep herself warm. She dodged others on the street and ducked out of the evening flow to take the few stairs into the building. Dodging a banged-open door, Anna caught it on the ricochet and pivoted to address the individual. But the man held a woman's shoulders as they shook in time with her sobs. Ducking her head, and keeping whatever retort she planned behind her teeth, Anna entered the building.

The office lights burned a dusky gold color as Anna worked her sleeves from her shoulders and escaped her coat with a bit of difficulty. A knock on the edge of the jamb startled her and her hip collided with her desk. She hissed through her teeth, scrubbing furiously at the blossom of pain while gimping over to the door to open it. There she smiled and managed a half-step back to allow the visitor inside.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Nor I you with how bushed you must be." John nodded at her, digging in his coat with one hand. "But I needed to return this pen to you."

"Ah, the mysterious weapon." Anna reached over, taking her pen with the arm still clad in her coat sleeve before finally extricating herself fully to drape the article over the back of her chair. Her palm pressed deeply into her thigh as she maneuvered behind her desk. "Did it serve its purpose?"

"Didn't actually get to use it since it would've destroyed the Ambassador's view that Mr. Pamuk died in a tragic accident." John shrugged, his coat ruffling and moving over his shoulders before settling when he did. "But I've actually come with another inquiry about that pen."

"I really hoped your sentence would end with another phrase."

John's eyebrows rose, "What kind of inquiry were you hoping for?"

"At least dinner. Or," Anna frowned, looking over the papers on her desk. "Perhaps I should suggest breakfast given our nightly schedules."

"Perhaps I should ask after I finish the business portion of this meeting." John winked at her, "My partner and my boss would prefer that."

"As would I. Makes sure I stay focused." Anna extended her hand, taking the pen. "And so I'll ask what you need from me in regards to this pen now?"

"I need you to kick up some dust in that direction for me."

"What kind of dust?"

"Manufacturer, origins, anything that might tell us who could've given this to someone to use on Mr. Pamuk."

"And how do you want me to get this information?"

John shrugged, "Probably about the same way you got it the first time."

"Ah," Anna leaned back in her chair, twisting the pen in her fingers. "I'm sure your Superintendent was exceedingly pleased to hear all about the friends I have."

"Oh I didn't tell him about your friends." John grinned, "I may look like I was born yesterday but I do know enough about what I do to know that you never give away your sources. Hence why I told him that they were my friends."

"Makes me want new friends if they became yours so easily."

"I've never met them."

"Nor should you, it'd destroy the illusion."

"And, for the moment, your friends will stay your friends and everyone else can believe they're my friends because you need to stay in the black as long as possible." John chewed his lip a moment when Anna straightened. "Unless you don't like that idea."

"Doctor turned informant and spy?" Anna rotated slightly in her chair, manipulating herself on her toes. "I actually rather like that idea. Keeps life interesting."

"So you're alright with all this?"

"There's a dead man in the morgue and a pen that administers poison. I'm curious as well so I'll bite and see who else will bite with me."

"If we're speaking about the potential for a breakfast date then I will warn you," John pulled at the lapels of his coat, "I don't bite until asked very nicely."

"Oh?" Anna winked at him, "If I intend for that I'll ask very nicely."

John tipped his hat, "Doctor."

"Detective." Anna turned back to her desk, tapping the pen over the surface before reaching for her phone.

She worked it between her ear and shoulder to hold it in place as her fingers worked the rotary. When the last number finished she waited for the line to connect, tapping the pen on the edge of the phone until a click at the other end sounded. No one answered and the only indication that there was anyone there at all was the soft breathing on the line.

"I've a friend who likes red roses." Anna waited another moment, "And I'd love to get her some very soon."

Replacing the phone in the cradle, Anna pushed off from her desk. The pen was still in her hand and she paused before opening the top drawer on her desk. Tugging it open, Anna leaned down to feel around the inside of the desk before tucking the pen under the lip and shutting the drawer. She turned to her chair, snatched her lab coat from the back, and worked her arms into the sleeves before leaving her office through another door.

Jane nodded at her, making notes on a clipboard as she walked down a table where all of the evidence from the Cerulean Swan sat labeled and tagged. She pointed to the pile still bagged by the door and Anna made her way toward it. "Got all this done on your own have you?"

"Freddie was good for his grandmother and got right to his schoolwork when I came for work so I didn't have the fight I normally have." Jane sighed, "I do hope it gets easier because he learns to understand and not because he just believes that I'm abandoning him."

"Not being a mother myself, I can't say that I understand but I'd like to think your Freddie, being as smart as he is, would believe you're abandoning him." Anna reached for a pair of gloves before digging in her pockets. "Bollocks. I left something in the office. Give me a minute and I'll be right back to help you."

"Don't worry, I'm keeping busy."

Anna hurried back toward her office, pausing when she noticed the dusky lights were black. As her hand went to flip the lights on, a voice spoke from the darkness. "I'd leave those off if I were you."

"Do you like roses?"

"I'd like to thinks so." The voice softened and Anna took a step closer to it. "I married one after all."

Anna managed her way around her desk and flipped on one yellow light to give detail to the face of the tall, handsome man sitting in the dark corner. "Does she know you're here Atticus?"

"She can't or she'd be endangered by my job." His dazzling smile came to life as he offered a hand to Anna before using it to kiss both of her cheeks. "It's so good to see you."

"And you." Anna slapped a hand against his suit-ed chest. "You got here awfully quickly."

"I was just around the corner at the bank, maintaining my cover."

"I'm touched you thought my personal call so important."

"You caught me just as I was on my way out the door actually so it's just a tiny delay on my ride home." Atticus nodded at her, "What's so important that you used the emergency line?"

"I couldn't just want to talk to a friend?"

"Not when I got a message from Jack Ross that informed me you had something I'd be a fool to not investigate and that got me a touch more curious than normal."

Anna laughed, "I _knew_ he was still working with the OSS."

"I can neither confirm nor deny his supposed involvement with a friendly government's more clandestine agency or his intelligence work that may or may not be happening on these fair shores. However," Atticus adjusted his tie and settled into his chair. "Since you so gracefully opted out of continued work in the intelligence field it's all hush, hush and I shouldn't even be here talking to you about any of it."

"But you and both know that while I was never suited for it the way you are." Anna shrugged her shoulders from her chair. "I loved the Navy and working with you and Jack at Naval Intelligence was a dream but afterward…"

"It didn't become what any of us thought it was supposed to be."

"You and Jack had the patience to work for it."

"We were always too much on the outside to ever go back to civilian life after we'd had a taste for being valuable and important." Atticus pointed at her, "But you could've called me on a regular line if you just wanted to talk over the old days."

"True." Anna reached into her top drawer and moved her hand about to find the pen. Her brow furrowed when it failed to touch her hand and she bent to try and discern the shadows under the lip to see where it might be. But when Atticus coughed and drew her attention back to him, Anna frowned. "You're not playing fair."

"And you still use the same hiding spot for small things." Atticus twirled the pen over his fingers. "Jack might've hinted it had something to do with a smaller device meant to administer poison."

"As I remember you were pretty deft with one of those in Prague once." Anna shut the drawer and pointed at the pen in Atticus's hand. "Do you recognize the design?"

"The mechanics of the piece aren't what interested me." Atticus leaned forward, disassembling the pen over Anna's desk in an instant and then reassembling them just as quickly. "It's the advanced nature of it."

"I did notice it seemed a bit more… beefed up."

Atticus raised an eyebrow, "You're not still hanging around Americans are you?"

"Some slang never goes away." Anna waved him off. "Just tell me what you think's so fascinating about the pen."

"Who said I thought it was fascinating?"

"The look on your face. It's why you were usually in the office, your poker face is terrible."

"There is that." Atticus shrugged a shoulder and then handed the pen back to Anna. "What's interesting is that I know who made this."

"You do?"

"Of course I do." His jaw tightened. "Same man who made them for us during the war."

"For a hefty price as I remember." Anna shuddered, "He's still in the business?"

"Probably not like he was then, making all his money off the war with his factories, but that's my father's work."

"You're sure?"

"Tip to tip. He's a scrimper and a saver but he's never one to be known for shirking on detail, design, or durability. The quality gives it away."

Anna investigated the pen, shaking her head. "What's Lord Sinderby got to gain from making poison pens?"

"There's an underground market to do the kinds of things we did during the war. More to the point, there's still Q Division and he's a contracted consultant with us." Atticus cringed, "Pretend you didn't hear any of that."

"My lips are sealed." Anna tucked the pen away, "But I'll need to talk to him about the pen."

"You take your own chances there." Atticus stood, "It's his skill but I wouldn't be foolish enough to confront him with it."

"I can't very well just stalk him until I found out how someone got one of his works to murder a Turkish diplomat."

Atticus sighed, "Then let me help put your mind to rest regarding the question I know's sitting on the tip of your tongue."

"You don't know what's on the tip of my tongue."

"It's the temptation to ask if my department or the government in general was behind this work." Atticus tapped Anna's desk with a finger, as if to point at the pen secured under the lip of her drawer again. "That is our tool, after all."

"It wasn't my question."

"Then I'll give you a piece of free information." Atticus settled his coat over his shoulders. "It wasn't us."

"Was it another government?"

"There are a few people who might think that Great Britain trying to make some peace with Turkey is against our national interests but not anyone with enough skill to get that pen and if not the skill then they've none of the money. As far as I know and I'm concerned, this was a personal dispute."

"Between Mr. Pamuk and someone with a pen full of poison?"

"It appears that way." Atticus reached into the shadows and grabbed his hat. "Now I really must be going or my wife'll have words with me and so will a very irate little girl of mine."

"I thought Victoria was too young to speak."

"She still babbles up a storm and pouts when I'm late." Anna rose, joining Atticus at the door. "I'll give them both a version of your best."

"Thank you." Anna kissed both of his cheeks when he bent his head to do the same to her. "For everything."

"It was nice to see you Anna… and remember some rather good times."

"We had quite a few bad ones as well."

Atticus shrugged, "Nature of the beast. It can't all be good all the time."

"No it can't." Anna opened the door and waved him off. "Travel safely."

"Good luck to you on this case Anna." Atticus ducked his head and headed out into the dark as the gentle patter of rain started to ping off the streets.

* * *

Anna rubbed at her eyes and started when the door opened behind her. Two towering young men ducked inside, shaking like dogs to rid themselves of water and almost dousing the third man who entered just behind them. He pushed past the both of them, giving a good-natured scowl before removing his own coat.

"As if I didn't get soaked enough on the way here." He turned to see Anna blinking at them from her desk. "Sorry if we disturbed you Doctor Smith."

"It's no problem Andy. I should be making tracks anyway." She shuffled the papers in front of her, signing the final few forms and pulling them with her toward the trio. "Alfred, Mrs. Moorsum and I finished the catalogue of the evidence for the case at the Cerulean so I would like the three of you to start on the analysis. You'll be taking charge of it while the day shift is here. I don't want any of them mucking it up for us."

"Mock ups and photographs before we return it all?" Alfred extended his hand for the paperwork and handed out the relevant sheaves to Andy and the other man. "I would put William here on returns."

"As you like." Anna reached around them for her coat, working her arms through the sleeves as she walked back to her desk to sort the rest of her things and find her handbag. "Although Mr. Moseley wanted Andy's help with the details of Mr. Pamuk's transfer to the custody of the Ambassador."

"Did they finish the autopsy?"

"They did." Anna turned to Andy, accepting his extended hands to hold her bag as she tugged her gloves over her hands. "And I'd like a copy of the report if you could get me one."

"Will do." Andy peeked around, "Is Mrs. Moorsum already gone?"

"She had to be away early for Freddie." Anna patted over her coat. "Alright then, I'm off. Ring me at home if you need anything but only if the building is on fire or one of you is on the point of death. Not before."

"Yes ma'am." They responded in unison and Anna smiled as she slipped past them to exit the offices.

The intoxicating pull of her bed almost made her miss the man standing in the shadows by the building exit. But Anna stopped in time to catch the profile of John's face. She let the small smile on her face expand when she caught sight of the grin spread over his own. They sidled closer to one another until their toes almost touched.

"And what brings you in this direction Detective?"

"Well, you had mentioned being interested in a proposal if breakfast was involved." John offered his arm to her and let the other open an umbrella. "If you're still interested in breakfast, that is."

"I'm always interested in breakfast." Anna pulled the umbrella from his hand and placed it in the one formerly occupied by her hands and then set her grip at his elbow. "So you don't lose your balance."

"Do you doubt my skills?"

"No, not in the slightest. But I do doubt that the slick road won't betray us at the first opportunity and I'd hate to take away your hands when they could save you a rather devastating fall, should that prove the result of our walk."

"Looking out for me?"

"Hoping to continue your acquaintance." Anna nodded toward the street. "I'm sure you've someplace in mind so I'll beg you to lead on."

"Starved are you?"

"More than famished."

They walked over the street twinkling with the reflected lights until John guided them down a dark alley. The hairs on the back of Anna's neck rose until they entered the golden circle of light from a pub raucous and rowdy with life. Exchanging smiles, they entered the bustle and din to join in the carousing joy of the occupants.

"My kind of people." Anna tugged John's arm so he lowered his ear and she could shout over the noise to be heard. "How'd you know?"

"You were a Navy nurse and, I'd hazard a very comfortable bet, a bit more." John winked and directed her toward a high-backed booth. "Wait there and I'll get us something to eat."

"Full breakfast, no skimping." Anna warned, her finger erected and warning written over her face.

John laughed and nodded, shouldering off a chattering man so Anna could slip by. She wiggled herself into the booth and hurried to grip the fingers of her gloves to remove them before the heat of the stove in the corner and all the bodies gathered together could sweat her out of her coat. In a moment she snuggled herself into the corner and closed her eyes to bath in the sounds of joy.

A soft knock on the table alerted her to a pot of tea and two steaming plates of English breakfast. John slid her plate to her and managed to squeeze himself onto the other bench to whistle at his own plate. "Say what you want but there's little else as fantastically satisfying as an English breakfast."

"I'll join you in that when we finally get off rationing." Anna took her utensils with one hand and a teacup with the other from the serving boy passing them. "Then it will be a _true_ English breakfast since I don't believe this is as full as it could be. And I tend to be very picky about the contents of my plate now that I don't have to eat the scraps from the rubbish or dig about for mushrooms with a messkit and a weak fire to cook."

"Was being a nurse truly such a trial?"

"It was when you were the nurse assigned to work with operative teams." Anna lowered her voice, leaning over the table. "It's how I made the friends I did who know a thing or two about specialized pens."

"And did any of those friends happen to have anything else they could say about a specialized pen?" John cut into one of his sausages, biting down with a touch of overdramatized satisfaction. "Rationing or no, these sausages are the best I've had in ages."

"Probably the cat meat they use in them." Anna grinned as John took another large bite, as if to spite her. "And yes, they told me the manufacturer of our particular pen and I think we should arrange a time to go and make his special acquaintance."

"You say that like we'd need a formal introduction." John paused, chewing slowly. "Is there a formal introduction?"

"That depends on whether or not you think the nobility is going the way of the gentry." Anna carefully managed a fried tomato on the end of her fork before she continued. "He is a lord but I do believe he paid for the position."

"Do his children get the title when he's dead?"

"I think so but I doubt his son wants it." Anna winked, slipping the tomato into her mouth and chewing quickly to answer John's unspoken question. "He's the one who knew it was his father's work."

"One of the people you worked with at SIS-"

"I was in Naval Intelligence, not the SIS, and even if I did work with any of those… more ungentlemanly ministries, it was the SOE."

"Then you knew Shrimpie Flintshire."

"Not personally but we crossed paths a few times." Anna shrugged, cutting apart her eggs. "I wasn't talking about him though."

"I doubted it since his father's long dead." John sighed, working a crust about his plate to mop the sauces and juices still there. "Who were you talking about?"

"The man I knew in the war was Atticus Aldridge."

"The Jew?"

"That's his religious affiliation, yes."

John snorted, "I always thought he had too pretty a face to be involved in anything more difficult than drafting useless legislation for the War Department."

"He worked with me at Naval Intelligence and he's one of those people who helped work into the SIS."

"He still work there?"

"I'm not saying one way or the other because he refuses to say and it's all for the best in that regard." Anna finished her plate. "It's not something we want to know because then it can be used to get to us later."

"Ignorance, in some cases, being bliss?"

"This is one of those cases."

"But his father, Lord Sinderby, is the one who made the pen?"

"Far as Atticus could tell, yes." Anna moved her plate to the side and finally sipped her tea. She grimaced at the chill and then forced herself to swallow quickly. "And he's got an eye for detail so I don't think he's wrong in this."

"I doubt he'd direct you to his father as a joke." John shuddered, "I've heard things about Lord Sinderby that make me more than a little nervous thinking about confronting the man with the fact that his device killed a diplomat."

"I've found that threatening a man like that doesn't work so we'll need to think of another angle." Anna huffed a breath, "But after I've gotten some sleep."

"Would you allow me to walk you home?"

"I think I'd be very honored if you'd take the bus with me. Walking that distance in this rain'd be the worst idea either of us had for the morning." Anna gathered her things, finishing another cup of tea before helping John stack the plates for the approaching serving boy. "And thank you for breakfast."

"It was my treat." John shrugged in his coat, the material rubbing over his suit jacket. "And I'll pursue any chance I have to spend more time in your company."

"You only met me a few days ago." Anna bit the inside of her cheek to keep her smile small but nothing could stop the rising blush on her cheeks. "I'm not sure you could tell too much about my company in that amount of time."

"My father married my mother after a three-day shore leave where he never left her side."

Anna put a hand to her chest, feigning shock as they waited at the corner for the bus. "I'm scandalized you would suggest such actions as an appropriate justification."

"Nothing untoward happened." John chided, grinning his own smile. "Well, not on that shore leave anyway."

"Your father was a Navy Man?"

"Marines, actually. Joined them after a row with my grandfather, who was a very proud member of the Irish Guard and refused to believe his son would dare do anything as traitorous as think about siding with the British."

Anna grimaced, stepping back as the bus wheels rounded the corner and sent a spray of puddled water over the pavement. "Was your father there during all that?"

"He watched his brother die in the Easter Rising so he was less than enthused when my father, after going to school in London, decided that maybe the English were a better choice for success."

"I can imagine but that's about all I can do." Anna climbed on board the bus, choosing a seat and shuffling toward the window so John could share the space with her. "Before I joined the Navy as a nurse I'd never been farther than the hospital at York and my training school in Manchester."

"And then you went all over the world."

"I went to France mostly. They had me in Prague once and then a couple trips to Italy but nothing too far. All of it Europe." Anna sighed, a tiny smile tickling the edge of her mouth. "I was so tempted by the thought of going on one of the missions to Indonesia or even Hong Kong but they needed language learners and I wasn't one for the mysteries of the Orient in that way."

"In what way were you for them?"

"I've always liked the food I've gotten from the Chinese vendors who live over by the East End." Anna shrugged, "Food's about as close to the culture as I'll ever get to understanding it really."

"Maybe you should go there one day."

"On what salary?" Anna laughed, "And it's one of those things that I believe should be left an illusion or else the reality might shatter my dreams, if you understand my meaning."

"I think I do."

They sat in silence until the stop where Anna directed him to wait for the next bus. His umbrella went up immediately and they huddled together as the next bus pulled close to them. Anna waited for John to close the umbrella but it forced them to stand in the only available spaces left on the crowded bus. She crowded close to him but kept her face down, noting the disapproving stares from the older women sitting a few rows back.

When the bus stopped, Anna guided John to the pavement and they hurried through the slackening rain onto Anna's street. With the weak sunlight trying to break through the gray, winter clouds Anna stopped in front of the door to her building. She bit her lip, looking up at the towering structure over her, and turned to John.

"I hope you don't find it too forward but I'd like to ask you if we'd be willing to walk me to my door."

"For a moment I worried this might be your door." John bent in front of her and pulled the door toward him. "After you… Since you know where you're going."

Anna snorted and led them toward the stairs. At the fourth floor they exited, Anna looking away as John massaged his right leg. When he tapped her shoulder, she turned to him, and he ducked his head.

"I'm sorry."

"For?"

"Delaying you."

"Mr. Bates, I understand, perhaps better than most, that some things can only be managed but never cured." Anna pointed, "That one's mine."

"Ah," John swept his arm forward, "Your doorway, madam."

"Thank you, good sir." Anna went to put her hand on the knob but pulled back a moment. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to risk a bit of impropriety."

"That would depend on the kind."

Anna winced, "It was something I mentioned, earlier, and now I'm not sure if I have enough courage to ask it of you."

"What's that?"

"Would you mind risking me shattering an illusion?"

"Only if you know that I want to shatter my illusions as well." John took a breath, "But only if you're suggesting that we kiss."

"And maybe something else." Anna looked at her feet, "But only if-"

His hand went to her face, holding along her jaw and tilting her up so his lips could land on hers. For a moment her body froze but then she sank into the sensation of his mouth. They eased closer to one another until a door at the end of the hall opened. Anna jumped away, almost colliding with the wall, and John stumbled sideways as he tried to support himself and her.

The woman at the end of the hall raised her eyebrows at them but shrugged and took the stairs out of sight. Anna faced John and noticed his hand over his mouth. She went to apologize but heard his laughter. After a moment of confusion she joined him until they could both take deep breaths again.

John put out his hand, taking hers, and kissed the back of it. "I was grateful you could shatter my illusion."

"Actually," Anna kept her grip on his fingers as his mouth pulled away from her hand. "I'd like to continue shattering illusions."

"And how-" John went to speak but Anna opened the door and stepped inside, holding it for him.

"It's your choice, Mr. Bates."

Anna turned her back and walked into her flat.


	8. With a Doctor in the Bedroom

John took a deep breath and stepped over her threshold. His fingers missed the door on the first grab and he hissed when they hit the wall. Shaking them out, a quick examination confirming he did not break anything, John closed the door with his other hand. As it fit the jamb, a door across the hall opened and John ducked his head to avoid the stink-eye glare from the old woman grabbing for her morning paper.

"Uh," John curled his fingers into his palm, noting the woman across the hall as Anna turned around, leaving her handbag on a table near her kitchenette. "Is she going to mind that I'm-"

"My neighbors can think what they like." Anna went to remove her coat but John put a hand on her shoulder. "Is there something you want to say?"

"I…" John bit his lip, shaking his head quickly. "I'd hate to think that I might be the reason your reputation is damaged or you are evicted from your flat and-"

"Mr. Bates." Anna put a hand over his mouth. "I can't be evicted from a flat I own… especially if I own the whole building."

"You own the building?" John moved her fingers from his mouth. "How's you manage to afford the whole building?"

"Inherited it from an uncle when he passed a few years ago." Anna slipped her fingers from his grip. "But I appreciate your concern about my honor."

"It's not right but a woman is her reputation and I wouldn't want to risk that because you've got a steady job and you're respected here and-" Anna raised her eyebrows and sucked her lips as John continued to fumble his words. "I wouldn't-"

"Are you always so noble you'll fall on swords that don't actually exist?"

"Theses do exist and-"

"Mr. Bates." Anna grabbed his hands, forcing his eyes to hers. "I'm strong enough for this, unless you think otherwise."

"I don't think that. You're one of the strongest people I think I've ever met."

"Then," Anna ran her thumbs over his skin, prickling at his blood, and persisted in holding his gaze. "What if we both assume that the fact you crossed that threshold means you want this?"

"I do." John's voice was barely more than a whisper, his words threatening to betray him. "I want this."

"Then we must also assume that you're moment of doubt just now is a combination of your great regard for me and your fear that the shattering of this reality could mean we might lose that for one another."

"Yes." John wondered if Anna heard the words they brushed the air so softly.

But when one of her hands left his grip to hold his cheek he knew she heard him. Not just with her ears but with everything. In that moment, as she raised his fallen chin so her lips could whisper over his own, John understood the depth of comprehension that could only come when two souls synchronized. And when she pulled away he hoped he would never lose that clarity.

"Can we just have this night and confront what might be in the future in the morning?"

John finally managed a smile. "It's already morning."

"Then in our version of the morning." She narrowed her eyes at him, "I might've made a mistake when I didn't realize what a pedant you'd be."

"If you've changed your mind then I'll just-" John made as if to grab the handle on the door but Anna yanked on his hand so he had to pivot to avoid knocking them both to the floor.

It forced him to crowd her into the wall and as John went to apologize he noticed the glint in Anna's eyes. "Not a chance."

Faster than John shedding his coat and before it could even thump on the floor, his lips were on hers again. Unlike the corridor outside her flat, where they need worry over others seeing them, John took his time. His hand, gentle but firm, ran along her jaw to hold her in place as he guided their kiss. She gave over control willingly, her fingers sliding from his chin to hold onto the durable material of his jacket lapels, and only broke away to grin at him.

"I do believe we'd be more comfortable doing this elsewhere."

"What? Bothered by the idea of a good snog in the foyer of your flat?" John moved his lips to her jaw, tracing the lingering warmth of his touch there to taste instead and enjoyed the shiver that accompanied Anna's moan when his tongue flicked out to reach the spot where her jaw met her neck.

"Not at all." Her chest bumped his, the increased necessity for air forcing her breaths shallower. "I just want to be somewhere I could have you on your back."

"I think I'd prefer that as well." John kissed behind her ear and dragged the lobe through his teeth before breaking away entirely to hang his coat and jacket on hooks by the door. "Lead the way Ms. Smith."

With the growing light in the windows, they maneuvered through the small flat until Anna's hand wrapped the doorknob. A turn later and they were in the shadowed confines of a bedroom that, from what John could make out in the varying shades of gray, supported one person who rarely slept there. He could not stifle the chuckle that escaped and immediately tried to cover it with a cough when Anna turned to him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I do hope we're not already lying to one another when we've only just met." Anna worked off her shoes, kicking them toward a corner before putting her hands on her hips. "Are we?"

"It's just-" John's hand flailed toward her bed and then gestured about the room. "It's the same as mine."

"How so?"

"You barely sleep in your bed, the wardrobe over there is always open because you've never got time to close it since you're always dashing between home and work, and you keep everything out of a direct path between your bed and all necessary destinations." John shrugged his shoulders, his shirt rasping over his skin with the action. "It would seem we're already very much alike Ms. Smith."

"I find I don't mind that at all." Anna stood before him again, taking a moment to look down before frowning.

"What is it?"

"You're…" Anna looked up and then down again. "You're quite tall."

John snorted, "I do hope this isn't the first time you've noticed."

"It's the first time it's been a concern in the face of our interactions." Anna took a dramatic step back. "Perhaps if you're not wearing shoes?"

With a smile, John bent to untie his shoes and toed them off, stuffing his socks into the mouths for good measure. He yanked off his tie, letting it fall on the self-made pier to his daily uniform, and turned back to Anna. He spread his hands, as if awaiting her inspection.

"Better?"

Anna made a show of walking up to him and then around him before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, you're just too tall."

"Or, perhaps, you're not tall enough."

She put her hand to her chest, a scoff of feigned offense rising from her. "I'm shocked your mother never taught you that you never insult a woman in her bedroom."

"She taught me never to ask a woman's age." John stepped closer to Anna, matching the devious grin on her face.

"I'm old enough that it doesn't count anymore because after four hundred what's the point?"

"I'm never supposed to ask about a woman's weight."

"You'll never lift me. I weigh as much as a steamer."

"And never leave off a chance to compliment then." John bent over enough so their eyes were on the same level. "You do have the most dazzling eyes I've ever seen Ms. Smith. Like two tempting oceans just begging for me to explore them."

"What would you hope to find there?"

"Myself." John blinked and their mouths met again.

Anna's unrestrained ferocity set his nerves on fire. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, pulling the buttons from their holes as quickly as she could before sending two of them skittering across her floor. John almost attempted to help her out of her blouse but caught sight of the delicate buttons there and abandoned the attempt to simply hold on for dear life as Anna's hands smoothed over his chest.

He closed his eyes, basking in the sensation of her hands on him and her lips working over his own, and broke the kiss. Anna froze and went to move her hands away but John put his over hers, holding her close as he dipped down to kiss her again. But he avoided her lips and went to set a series of kisses over her jaw instead. Anna worked herself closer and John's hands slipped off her shoulders to her skirt.

When his fingers skittered over her zipper, he missed the catch the first time but managed to pulled it down in the next attempt before his fingers caught on the hook. Anna's giggled vibrated along her cheek, disrupting his kisses, and her fingers left his chest to help him ease the hook from the catch so her skirt could drop to the floor. She stepped out of her skirt and put her fingers to work on her buttons to leave her blouse floating to the floor.

John could almost hear his jaw drop. She smiled at him, walking backward toward the bed, and sat on the edge before pointing at him. "Are you going to join me or do you need a bit more help?"

He put his hands on his shirt and went to pull it from his shoulders but stopped. Meeting Anna's raised eyebrow, John walked toward her and moved his hands to hers. This action pulled her upright as she sat on the edge of the bed and put her hands on his shirt.

"Maybe you should help me."

"Happy to." Anna used her hold on his shirt to get on her knees on the bed, putting herself head and shoulders above him. She smirked, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. "Finally."

"Finally?"

"I'm taller than you." Anna placed her hands on his shoulders, tracing the lines of his skin and muscles. "Is this what it feels like to be taller than the rest of the world?"

"Mostly I just live in constant fear of knocking my head on the doorjambs." John closed his eyes as Anna drew her lips over his face in a series of barely-there kisses.

"Tragic." Anna placed her lips over his jaw and neck, kissing along his pulse point before sucking there. John shivered under her attentions and raised his hands to her hips. His fingers tensed into her skin when her hands continued to stroke over his arms and back. When she dug her fingers into his skin it pulled him closer to her and John barely stopped himself stumbling when his knees knocked into the bed. "It's so much better from this angle."

"Yes," John opened his eyes to see her slip and brassiere right in front of him. "Yes it is."

When she lifted her head John leaned forward. Anna's fingers gripping for his shoulders and the back of his head to hold herself steady while John kissed through her slip was enough for him to continue. His hands found the edge of her slip and lifted it enough to feel her skin under his fingers. Skin he caressed in time with the dig of Anna's nails into his scalp.

Forcing more of her slip up, John bent further to cover her exposed abdomen with kisses and nips. A tremor through Anna's body gave him pause but John used the moment to adjust them both. He helped Anna lie back, letting her slip fall on his shirt as if to construct another pile of abandoned clothing that now resembled a trail of breadcrumbs from the door to the bed.

Anna's hand gasped at John's belt, tugging him forward with it so his hands flailed a bit to land on either side of her head to hold himself above her, and raised up enough to whisper to him. "I think we'd better help you lose this."

His fingers moved with all the dexterity of sausages but he successfully flipped the catch and went to yank the leather loose of his belt loops. Before he could, Anna's fingers found his zipper and mimicked his earlier motions to grind the air with the sound of separating teeth. With his trousers gaping open, John attempted an awkward shuffle and put his hands on the band to lower them.

Once again, Anna stopped him. Her hands pushed his away and pulled his trousers down far enough that she could run the length of his pants with her palms. John quivered now, biting his tongue when Anna's casual investigation threatened to move higher, and let out a relieved sigh when Anna laid back on the bed to nod at him.

"You might want to do the rest yourself. I'd hate to distract you."

"You're distracting just laying there."

"Then hurry up so you can lay here too."

John kicked free of his trousers far less elegantly than Anna had left her skirt earlier but got them off his ankles all the same. His knee hit the bed before he realized the position gave Anna full view of his right leg. The bed groaned when John attempted to pivot away, to hide his leg in the growing light of the room that exposed their every move, but Anna's hand caught his. He turned to her but she only shook her head.

When John went to speak, to explain himself, she put his hand firmly on her breast and laid back to force him to follow. The new grip, accompanied by the fact the light also gave him unparalleled access to adore Anna from his vantage point, helped John forget. As he stroked and kneaded her breast, John lowered his lips toward hers again.

"We've not got time to tread over old wounds today." Anna whispered, meetings his lips with hers and a hand to his shoulders that then set a teasing pace in exploration over his back. "And it wouldn't matter anyway."

"Why not?" John retraced his earlier steps around her jaw to her ear, now appreciating the lines that dragged him back toward her neck and the trapping cups of her brassiere.

"Because what I want isn't going to have anything to do with it." Anna raised her leg to hook over his hip and drag him closer to her. Close enough to grind against his growing erection. "This part of you seems to work just fine."

John covered her mouth with his, a hand taking hold on her raised leg to force her slightly higher and allow him to thrust against her. Her nails raked down his back and dug into the skin at the base of his spine. His other hand persisted in its study at her breast before following the line of the material guarding it from view to find the catches at the back. Another set of hook and catch closures almost stopped him but with a bit of maneuvering John released each one. A release that left her open to his finally place his skin on hers.

Anna shuffled, moving her arms enough to drop her brassiere over the side of the bed, and went to wrap John close again. But he resisted, holding himself back to just stare at her. She almost wrapped an arm over her chest, torso visibly moving to cover herself from his gaze. When their eyes met, Anna's widened with a touch of terror, John moved her hand to his scarred and injured leg.

They lay in silence a moment as they appreciated what held their gaze. John's unparalleled view only begged him for further attention and he answered the call. His mouth closed over her breast and sucked heartily at her nipple until Anna practically tore rivulets in his leg and back. But all that did was alter John's direction from one breast to the other.

Continuing down her body, care and adoration in every motion of his mouth over her skin, John reached the line of her knickers. He pecked along it, leaving the occasional reddening spot where he sucked with a bit more enthusiasm than he had on her neck or shoulders. Anna's hips lifted and she shifted against him until John lifted the edge enough to tug them down her legs. They dangled off one ankle a moment before John dropped them in a new spot on the floor.

A new territory opened to them. A new frontier for them to cross with vigor and passion. A new way to celebrate their expanded horizons.

And while John almost laughed to himself at those thoughts, the sight of Anna wearing nothing but her garters, hose, and a nervous smile would have driven him to his knees if he were not already there. He glided his hands back over her legs to remove the last vestiges of her clothing and smoothed the skin he exposed. Each part of her skin softened under the rasp of his calloused fingers until John wondered if he could ever be worthy of touching so magnificent a creature. But he continued until he landed back at her hips. His position there offered him the leverage to return to the destination of his last affections.

But with her legs opened around him, with her whole body responding in time with the whimpers and moans from her mouth, John could not content himself with kisses. His tongue swirled her navel and his fingers tentatively brushed her folds. Her jerked reaction timed perfectly with his groan at the sensation of damp on his fingers.

He tried again, waiting for Anna to push him away or speak, but all she did was rock her hips toward his hand. John watched her fingers clench the bedclothes beneath her, yanking them out of place with each cautious touch. Slowly, John emboldened himself enough to finally open her to his fingers. Fingers that found her wet enough to slide inside.

Anna's howl at that almost forced John to jump away. But one of her hands flew out to grab his wrist and force him deeper. John tried to read her expression but Anna's eyes hid behind screwed shut lids while beads of perspiration dotted her body. A body John continued to tangle into knots when his lips joined the fray to suck at her clit, lick over her folds, and send his tongue delving into her.

Each gasping cry sent John closer and closer until al he could hear, smell, taste, touch, and see was Anna. She surrounded him, consumed him, and gave over to him a moment later. A moment when John almost pried himself loose from the suffocating hold of her tightened thighs around his head.

He could only stare at her, watching as her mind calmed enough for her eyes to open. But even they were hazy. Not so hazy they could not meet his or invite him closer, but hazy enough that John wondered if she saw him.

Her tongue darted from behind her teeth to taste over his lips. A taste that she turned into a kiss when she grabbed for any part of him she could reach to allow her better access to his mouth, his lips, and his tongue. John gave over to it willingly, basking in the adoration reflected back on him, and sank closer to her while her hips worked to bump and grind over his own.

John drew back from the kiss, dotting a few more about her eyes and cheeks before leaning back enough to attempt to manage his pants. His position, made more precarious by a sudden movement from Anna that almost sent him tumbling back to the floor, forced him off the bed to drop the fabric to the floor. They joined her knickers, appearing as no more than shapeless and weak copies of her elegance, and John flashed a moment of doubt.

But Anna put her hand on his, guided him back between the legs she immediately raised to his hips, and drove his doubts away. With each kiss she gave him she made him a new man. With each moan at the sensation of him thrusting as deeply into her as he could go she told him what she wanted. With the raise of her leg, the dig of her nails, the scoring of his back, Anna battled his doubts away.

He came first, sagging almost on top of her while his body completed its primal procreation, and tried to adjust his hips to help Anna finish as well. Her fingers bumped into his and they managed a quick giggle before Anna keened her final call. A call that echoed around the room a moment before dying down with the light entering the room.

John moved away from her, shifting on the bed to lay beside her, and turned onto his side. Anna did not move, her chest rising and falling slowly as if nothing and no one could defeat the soothing peace she found. One of her hands idly stroked over his leg, fingers tracing delicate scars there before running back toward his hip.

They did not speak and soon Anna's steady breathing lengthened and deepened as the slightest hint of a snore escaped her lips. John snorted his laugh, moving a few strands of Anna's hair from her face as she slept. He could not sleep but his own calm came at watching Anna free herself from the cares and concerns of the world they occupied in sleep was its own convalescence.

When her eyes did flutter open John smiled at her. She stretched her mouth back at him, still slowly blinking as if to fight away the tempting hold of sleep over her. Her fingers resumed their earlier trails over his leg but paused when her hand brushed his arousal.

Without looking at him, although John wondered if she knew he could see her grin, Anna teased her way about him to leave John groaning. She turned on the bed, pushing John to lie back, and sat up. Her movements retained a bit of sluggishness from sleep but Anna positioned herself next to his legs. John frowned and then forced his eyes closed when Anna's hand wrapped over him.

Tugs, pulls, and strokes to match his earlier ministrations over her skin, drove John's arms over his head to tear at his pillow or hold the headboard. Neither proved distraction enough so John reached for Anna. Reached for her as she mounted his legs and bent over him to kiss at his chest while she continued to tease his erection harder.

But even his hand in her hair, trying to hold himself steady, or the hand working over her skin was no aid to him. Anna lowered her mouth and took her own shy foray into pleasure with a lick of her tongue over his arousal. Only gravity held John back and his sharp cry gave Anna reason to spread her tongue and take to licking over him like an ice cream cone. A cone she quickly abandoned for the idea of sucking down on him.

John could not take much more, urging Anna up when his hips bucked for the third time of their own accord. She responded, kissing over the head a final time, but put her hands on John's shoulders to keep him flat on the bed when she slid forward. As she rose onto her knees, positioning them perfectly, John forgot to breathe. And he was sure he died and went to heaven when Anna sheathed herself in that position.

The slow ride quickly escalated, driven there with John's mouth on Anna's skin and lips and her fingers adding scars to his chest that could match his back. Her knees dug into his hips to control her motions and John gripped her hips to thrust into her. And as they both tumbled over the edge again, Anna leading the charge this time, John wondered if his earlier misgivings and self-castigations were even from the same man enjoying a woman riding him so thoroughly that they both collapsed back onto her bed. As his fingers stroked through her hair, following the natural lines of it, John wondered if that man had been murdered by the both of them in that very room.

"Stop brooding." She muttered into his skin and John laughed, forcing Anna's head up. "I can hear it turning cogs in your brain."

"You don't know that I'm a brooder."

"Then why don't you just fall asleep, like you didn't last time, and we'll both dream about how we'll manage a round three." Anna replaced her head on his chest, her laugh now vibrating through him.

"I'm already dreaming of a round four."

"Then get to sleep and figure out how we make that happen."

John lay back, letting himself fully relax on the foreign bed with the settled weight of Anna Smith on his chest, and eased into sleep.


	9. With a Detective in the Bathroom

Anna opened her eyes, frowning at the blankets rumpled and ruffled in front of her. She lifted her head, noting the clothes missing from the floor, and pushed hair from her face to try and take better stock of the room. As she frowned at her surroundings, still blinking sleep from her eyes and the fog from her brain, she heard sounds coming from her bathroom.

Pushing out of bed, snagging the dressing gown hanging from the back of her chair, Anna pushed into her hall and knocked on the door. It opened quickly and she gasped a little at the sight of John, wearing only a towel, with his face smothered in shaving cream. "Did I wake you?"

"No." She shook her head and pointed at him, "How'd you find that in my bathroom? I don't have any."

"I've got a travel bag that I keep with me at all times." John pointed to it on the small counter. "I've worked a lot of shifts where it was a day or two before I could manage to get myself home and I needed a way to shave."

"Did someone complain?"

He snorted, "You've not seen me with the five o'clock shadow."

"Not as yet." She rubbed her hand over her arm, "I'd imagine I'd know a bit more about what that would feel like."

John swallowed, "Is that a request, Ms. Smith?"

"You're already shaving."

He looked down at the razor and then held it out toward her. "I'm willing to see how delicate your hands are."

"I'm usually wielding a scalpel."

"I'm sure you can manage." John nodded at the razor, "Unless you're not up to the challenge."

"When you put it that way." Anna took the razor and nodded at the tub. "You might want to sit. I'm too short to do this when you're standing."

"As the lady commands."

John sat on the edge of the tub, holding the edges with his hands, and Anna grabbed the cloth from next to the sink. She ran it under hot water from the faucet and squeezed it out before wrapping the razor in it. When she counted to thirty, she released the blade and secured it with her pointer finger along the back of the blade.

"You'll have to be still. My usual subjects are already stiff with rigor when I do this to them."

"You shave the dead?"

"If I've got to examine a wound." Anna tilted his chin with the fingers of her other hand. "I'd say this is us crossing the Rubicon."

"I thought we did that when I crossed over your doorstep."

"Perhaps." Anna drew the blade in a stripe down John's cheek and wiped the blade on the cloth before taking another turn. "It was lovely, in case you were curious about how I felt."

"I was sure you would not've made those noises if you felt otherwise." John grinned and then dropped his smile so Anna could pull down his cheek with the blade. "I do worry about your neighbors."

"They're all deaf." Anna assured him, carefully pulling across his cheekbone to take the topmost section of foam from his face.

"Really?"

"Really." She gave a little laugh, "Not one of them is under the age of seventy."

"Must make for interesting interactions."

"You wouldn't believe the stories they tell." Anna swiped again and cleaned the blade. "Or what they'll insist they've seen."

"I wouldn't doubt them." John followed the directions of her fingers on his chin so she could finish with his left cheek. "I do worry about your reputation, if that's not being too prudish."

"It's polite." Anna frowned at a particularly difficult section and maneuvered around it to ensure she shaved him close. "But I already told you, this building is mine and therefore I'd have to evict myself if I insisted on a code of conduct."

"You never worry about your neighbors?"

"I don't live in Russia, Mr. Bates, and I'm not afraid of what anyone in government has to say about my sex life." Anna paused, "Not that I had one before or am insisting I have one now but… all the same."

She moved to his other cheek as he spoke. "What about your job?"

"I already work a night shift as a mortician." Anna shook her head, tilting his up as she managed his neck and under his chin in a few swipes. "There's not much they need to worry about the children seeing."

"Would any of them care about an unmarried woman inviting a divorced man into her flat in the early hours?"

"If it were night, maybe, but since it's day they could assume any number of things." Anna snorted, "Could you imagine me as a Madame?"

"You'd be the prettiest prostitute I've ever seen."

Anna sobered, "I've had to cut into more than a few of them and it's rather a tragic sight."

"Anyone who has to sell themselves for money is tragic already." John kept his chin tipped upward as anna finished with his neck and chin, checking over it before moving to his other cheek. "I wonder if anyone chooses the life because they believe it's a viable option or if all of them are in desperate straights."

"As someone who's enjoyed sex, I can say there's an appeal to trying out a few different suitors. However," Anna held John's chin carefully to manage his cheek. "The idea that someone's paying for it destroys the joy in my eyes. Makes it about someone trying to guess the level of desire and pleasure the paying party expects instead of both sides finding it for themselves."

"Not much mutual pleasure when money's involved."

"Not much." Anna shook her head, taking the cloth to rinse and reheat before applying it to the razor. "Most of them are treated abominably because people believe that because you paid for a service you own them."

"They're not slaves."

"Explain that to the men who already feel low about themselves because they're paying for sex and then need to feel strong again by asserting dominance." Anna sighed, "They know they're not the only men those women've had and they want to prove how manly they are because they already feel emasculated."

"Strong men don't need to hurt women to prove they're strong." John's jaw tightened and Anna paused so she did not cut over his cheek. "Weak men hurt women. They're trying to prove something. A strong man doesn't need to prove anything to anyone. He's already proved it to himself."

"Spoken like a strong man." Anna pulled the razor over his cheek again, wiping it clean. "I imagine you were one of those men that women feel safe around."

"I'd like to think so." John flicked his eyes toward Anna, "You feel safe around me or else I wouldn't be here."

"I'm holding the razor."

"Now. You weren't holding a razor when you invited me into your flat last night." John closed his mouth as Anna moved to his chin and the area above his lip.

"Have you ever thought about a mustache?" She dragged the razor carefully over his skin. "I could see you with one. Maybe even a whole beard."

"I don't think I could manage it well."

"Perhaps you could." Anna finished and rinsed the cloth one last time before handing it to him so he could hold it over his face. "You were remarkably still."

"I spent a great deal of time practicing it as a child." He finished toweling his face. "My mother spent a lot of time waiting for me to finish in confessionals."

"Naughty child?"

"Tempestuous and curious." John tossed the cloth back toward the sink and Anna set the razor there. "Although I do claim a bit of naughtiness on occasion."

"Like agreeing to fornicate with a woman who's not your wife?"

"Well," John shrugged, "She did invite me in so nicely."

"That I did." Anna nodded at the tub, "Were you planning anything else in here before you left?"

"I had hoped for a bath." John cringed, "If that's not too presumptuous."

"No." Anna leaned around him to fiddle with the knobs and the stopper so water rushed into the claw-footed tub. "I happen to very much like baths."

"Oh…" John's mouth stayed formed around the sound as Anna bit her lip to keep from grinning at the flush of red hurrying over his cheeks. "Did you want to… I can wait and then…"

"Mr. Bates," Anna put her hands between his and his body on the edge of the tub, her lips close to his as she whispered. "I'd like us to share one… If you're amenable to that idea."

"As in most cases with ideas that concern you," John lifted himself enough to bring their lips together. "I'd be an idiot to say no."

"Good." Anna drew back, leaving her dressing gown hanging from a hook on the back of the door and slipping around John to enter the water. "It's perfectly warm and we've got the time."

"You're sure?"

"I know my schedule well." She put her hands on either side of the tub and nodded at him. "I do hope you were serious about joining me. And, if you please, not wearing my towel. It'll be a terror to dry otherwise."

John removed the towel, hanging it from the rack and turned the knobs to stop the water. "And where do you want me?"

"In as many places as I can have you." Anna pointed, "But there is fine."

"You're settling," John tsked his teeth at her. "Bad form Doctor."

"We must all make concessions where we can." Anna maneuvered, standing up in the tub, "And I changed my mind."

"So soon?" John held out his arms. "Do you not want to share?"

"I do. I just need you here," Anna motioned behind her. "It'll be a better fit."

John stepped into the water behind Anna and sat slowly, sighing as his leg stretched the full length of the tub. "I've not had a bath I can actually fit in without some part of me sticking out in so long."

"Really?" Anna fit herself between his legs. "And why's that?"

"It may surprise you to know, Doctor, but I still live with my mother."

"Do you?"

John shrugged, "It proved more convenient than trying to find a flat after my divorce and since my mother's getting older I wanted to be there to take care of her in case she needed any help."

"I'm sure she enjoys your company."

"It's one of the reasons why I should never, if given the opportunity, invite you back to mine." John winced, "It'd make for awkward conversation."

"Your mother would love me."

"Of that," John kissed her cheek, "I've no doubt. But as it stands, we've only known one another a few days now and there's not much I could tell her about you."

"I felt we learned a great deal about one another the first day we had tea."

"We did." John reached around Anna, she swallowing hard to suppress a rise when the tempting beginnings of his arousal slid along her back, for the soap and a flannel. "But my mother despises war stories."

"Too many of her own?"

"My father died," John settled behind Anna again and she heard the vigorous scrub of the flannel against the bar of soap that clinked in the dish a moment later. "In the Second Boer War. She raised me by herself, in London, until I joined the Army the moment I could."

"Hence her need for you to be silent all the time?" Anna tried to turn but John's hands massaged over her shoulders with the flannel and worked down her arms, keeping her in place. "Busy woman?"

"She stitched and sowed and mended and crocheted and knitted everything and anything. We lived in Poplar and I took work, when I could lift a brick, as one of the boys on the docks." John laughed a bit, "She always worried that I'd wander onto a boat one day and join the Navy."

"I could see you as a Navy man." Anna turned to face him, lifting her arms from the water as John wrapped around to soap at her waist and tease his way up. "All those lovely insignias on your shoulders."

"They're called epaulettes and I much preferred being in the thick of things." John shuddered, "I couldn't imagine dying as I slowly lost air in the dark of a sinking ship. It terrifies me."

Anna put her hand over his, stopping his fingers continuing to brush over her breasts. "Why?"

"Doesn't it frighten you?"

"Not like that." Anna shifted, sending water lapping toward the sides. "Why?"

John let his hands drop, "I knew a boy, when I was young, who wanted to race across the river in a barrel. We were all young and stupid and so we helped him into it and then sealed the barrel. We didn't realize it had a leak and so we sent it off." He swallowed, his eyes going far away as Anna raised a hand to smooth over his cheek. "When we got to the other side the barrel was nowhere to be seen."

"He sunk?"

"He… He suffocated in the barrel." John coughed, swallowing as he blinked hard. "I was the strongest swimmer so I dived down and found the barrel. I broke it open with a hammer we stole and pulled out friend up. The local GP came but…"

"It was too late?"

John nodded. "I promised my mother, after that day, I'd never join the Navy. I didn't want to die without air, clawing at my throat for it."

"Sorry." Anna covered his hand with hers, squeezing a moment. "I shouldn't have asked. That was-"

"No," John pulled her hand back, forcing her to look at him. "I don't mind telling you. I find… I don't know, I find that I don't mind telling you a great many things about me that I've not told anyone before."

"Must be my inherent charm." Anna tried to laugh it away but John shook his head and her smile faded. "I spent time, when I was a nurse, consoling the dying. One of the men was delirious from morphine and called me his 'angel of light'. It became my call sign when I worked for Naval Intelligence."

"Something I don't think you were supposed to tell me."

"No, I wasn't." Anna shrugged, "But I worked well as one of their interrogators. An American I worked with, he said I had a skill of spinning the truth from people. They just wanted to confess to me and I let them."

"Is that what I'm doing, confessing to you?"

"We've all got weights on our chests, John." Anna put her hand over his heart, meeting his gaze. "Perhaps you just need someone to help you lift the burdens you carry. Ones you've carried for far too long."

"Possibly." John held up the flannel. "May I finish?"

"I don't know," Anna pursed her lips, struggling to appear stern. "Should I let an Army man take advantage of a Navy woman like myself?"

"I'm the son of a Marine, I'll remind you, and there's nothing I've got against the Navy except that I wouldn't join them."

"Then please proceed." Anna turned back around, leaning on John's chest as he moved to her legs. "This is the best care I've ever received."

"I intended to make it better than the sponge baths they worked on me when they finally liberated us from the Japanese." John shuddered again. "I swore myself blue that nurse tried to strip the skin from my bones with her sponge."

"Brutal, was she?"

"The worst."

"Then," Anna turned on her knees, maneuvering John's legs to straddle them as she faced him and took the flannel. "If you don't mind, I'd like to show you the benefits of true care."

"As a former nurse, I'll trust your opinion."

"I should hope so."

Anna took the flannel and set it over the side of the tub. Her hands lathered in the soap and she set to massaging his scalp with her fingers until his eyes fluttered closed. The rise and fall of his chest set the rhythm for her motions as she moved to his ears and over his face with a gentle massage. And when she reached for the flannel again, Anna half-wondered if John had fallen asleep in the tub.

But he shifted when she dotted kisses over his neck, the flannel traveling lower over his chest until she brushed at his waking arousal. When she wrapped the flannel around him, John jerked hard enough in the tub to send water over the sides. His eyes went wide and he looked at Anna as she maneuvered herself closer to him.

"I believe there was talk of a round three."

"Are you sure?" John's head practically spun as he investigated the bathroom. "Here? Now?"

"It may surprise you, or not, that I've actually had a bit of practice with this particular maneuver before." Anna brought their hips together, trapping his erection between them and angling her hips to run herself along his length so her folds brushed him. "And the water just makes it more fun."

"Exactly where did you learn how to do this?"

"In Italy." Anna held her hands behind John's neck, continuing her slow slide along his length to wet him with her instead of the water. "There was this resistance fighter there who helped me get some information. We had to hide in a little hut in the Alps as he helped me cross into Switzerland and there was a terrible storm."

"You put the time to good use."

"I had two days to learn some very interesting things from the world's second-best lovers." Anna lifted onto her knees and risked a look down to position herself before sinking slowly onto John. "The French are the first but I did work with a few of them who told me some of the raunchiest stories I think I've ever heard."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"They also taught me a maneuver I never had the chance to try." Anna held herself in place and leaned forward to whisper in John's ear. "Do you know what 'sixty-nine' means?"

"Anna!"

Anna brought them together in a rush and John's head went back almost far enough to hit the back of the tub as more water sloshed onto the bathroom floor. "I thought so. Imagine what that would be like."

"With you or in general?" John ground out, his hands trying to decide between holding Anna's hips and gripping the sides of the tub as she gyrated on him.

"Either… or both." Anna rolled her hips into his, sliding back to bring them together again as John's hips bucked into her. "I'd rather you try it with me."

"We barely know one another." John's fingers finally held like claws at her hips to grind deeply inside her. "How could I say that about you?"

"Because we're entering a new age." Anna dug one of her hands into John's shoulder to give her the leverage she needed while her other hand snaked between them to flick and press at her clit. "An age where women and man can use one another for pleasure and be pleased in return."

"You think anyone's going to let us enter that kind of new age?" John dipped his head to blow air over her breasts. "Where men and women are equal?"

"That'll never happen." Anna huffed, finding the spot that struck her just right and moving her hips just so to hit that spot inside her as well. "Men'd be unmanageable then."

"Because we're manageable now?"

Anna grinned at him, moving faster. "I'm managing you."

"Minx." John took one of Anna's breasts in his mouth as a hand shifted to her ass to grip her tightly to him and slip even deeper inside her.

"Tease."

They continued moving until John came in a rush. His head landed on her shoulder and he managed a few breaths before the hand formerly holding at her hip joined her fingers at her clit. Anna gasped and huffed as the final stutters of John's body and his fingers brought her over the edge with him.

She slipped back, dunking herself in the water a moment before emerging to brush her hair back. "You're better than any Frenchman I ever had."

"I should hope so." John held the sides of the tub and leaned over to kiss her. "I was always better than a Frog."

Anna laughed and left the tub to wrap herself in a towel. She dried her skin with it as John pulled the plug on the tub and retrieved his towel from earlier. He exited the tub a bit more delicately and pointed to the water on the floor.

"We made a bit of a mess in here."

"As expected." Anna dropped her towel and moved it with her foot along the floor. "But it's water and it dries almost as easily as it soaks."

"I thought you didn't want to soak your towels." John argued, dropping his as well and joining her in cleaning the water before hanging both towels on the line above the tub. "Too much washing or something."

"It was worth it." Anna turned to the mirror, brushing her hair back from her face and working the wet length into a simple knot she pinned to her head. "That'll do since I've not time to dry it."

"I thought," John came behind her and Anna's breath caught at the feel of him running along the crease of her ass. "You knew your schedule."

"And we took all of my time for a lie-in." Anna met John's eyes in the mirror. "And I didn't think you could manage again so quickly."

"You're too tempting to just ignore." He held her gaze as he nipped at her neck and slid between her legs to run along her length in a mimic of her earlier motions in the tub. "If you're ready."

"For round four, you mean?"

"It's my intention." John eased Anna's legs a bit more apart, continuing to run along her as his hands held her hips. "But if you'd rather not…"

"If you move, John Bates, I'll personally see to it that you never do this again." Anna's hands dug into the counter as one of John's hands moved to her clit and pressed his palm against it while his fingers delved between her folds and he continued to stroke himself there.

"With you or-"

"With anyone, ever."

"What an enticement." John growled against her ear, adding another finger to spread her wider and kept pressure on her clit. "Almost frightens me."

"It made you harder." Anna keened, pressing back against him. "Stop teasing me. We don't have time."

"You're right." John removed his fingers and Anna whimpered when he drew back. "No time at all."

He thrust forward and Anna went up on her tiptoes. The angle hit exactly where she needed and all she could manage was a moan when John ground into her so manage that tiny bit deeper. Anna gripped the edge of the sink hard enough to make her knuckles white but it gave her the leverage she needed to thrust herself back toward John.

And so it began, the push-pull of it all. The slap and smack of skin coming together until the slippery suck of their sweating bodies meetings had Anna crying out. John's fingers moved over her and she managed a hand to guide his as they sought the places that would make her cry out. Until he abandoned the effort, trusting in her skill, and moved to her breast instead.

"You're tighter from this angle." He managed, breathing hotly against her ear before sucking a deep red patch where her neck met her shoulder. "Impossibly wetter. It's like being wrapped in a scorching wet glove."

"You're deeper." Anna closed her eyes, risking the darkness a moment before meeting John's eyes in the mirror again. "Faster, please."

"It'll be harder."

"I don't care."

John obeyed her commands and with their concentrated efforts, Anna came in a rippling tremor that left her legs quivering. She draped herself over the sink, almost biting through her lip at the perpetuation of her pleasure as John sought his. But a moment later he came in a rush and his forehead landed on her back. His lips placed a series of sloppy kisses there until he managed to stand again.

"I hope I haven't made you late."

"No later than you." Anna took the cloth and soaked it in the sink before wiping herself down to try and clean herself a bit more. "If you're on duty tonight."

"Robert and I've got a bit of a mess to sort out." He kissed her cheek. "I'm afraid we won't repeat this performance in the morning."

"Time will tell." Anna turned to face him and smiled at him. "It made my day to have you here, in case you were wondering."

"It made mine to be here." John kissed her again. "I do hope this affair won't be achingly short."

"You're not short in any regard, Detective." Anna dodged the swat he aimed for her ass. "Best fix your hair. I've left it in rather a mess."

"Yes, wouldn't want anyone to know what they're missing."

"Bad form." Anna went to the door, collecting her dressing gown before meeting John's eyes for a final time.

"Very bad form." He agreed and pulled a comb from his travel kit.


	10. With a Constable in the Alley

John pulled his tie straighter as he hurried into the office and dodged a group of constables to meet Robert at their desks. "Is the Super in yet?"

"No, you're on time." Robert looked him up and down. "A little worse for wear aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You were wearing that yesterday." Robert narrowed his eyes, "Were you somewhere other than home?"

"Why?"

"General curiosity in your change of behavior."

"You're welcome to call my mother to confirm if you think I'm lying." John snorted and tugged at his shirt. "Did the Ambassador change his mind?"

"Bloody Turk's got nothing to give us but a back ache if we stretch too far and a headache if we ask any questions."

"Still insisting that their countryman died in an accident of a weak heart?"

"It's better than suggesting that he wasn't a rising star." Robert growled, "They're nothing but cowering little snits as far as I'm concerned. And our government's not much better if they'd rather hush it up than seek the truth."

"It's distasteful." John sighed, "What about Laing? Did his work with James lead to anything beneficial?"

"I was going to see them when you got here." Robert winced, "Might be a bit of a scene since it's a busy time at the Cerulean but we could get lucky."

"A man who depends on luck-"

"Better have plenty of it, I know." Robert waved him off and grabbed his overcoat. "Come on. We've got leads to follow before we lose them."

"I'm impressed they're open so soon after someone died there."

"It's given them a… changed crowd." Robert cringed, slipping his arms into his coat. "Death draws a different clientele."

"I can only guess." John shuddered. "I hope we're not running into anyone we've met before."

"There was that one woman who draped herself all over you when you mentioned that you see dead bodies." Robert took the driver's seat of the car. "Remember, we interviewed her when we were looking for suspects on that robbery and she dogged you for weeks."

"I also remember she smelled of absinthe and drank herself into a sanitarium." John pointed to the road. "Drive please, we've not got all night."

"Worried you'd miss another rendezvous with whomever occupied your day?" Robert prodded but John did not break. "Because if you're eager to get back to whomever she is then maybe you should say something."

John opened his mouth but closed it for a moment. When he opened it again he could not help but smile, "Who says it was a woman?"

Robert almost drove them into the rear of another car.

Parking the car outside the Cerulean, Robert and John eased their way through the crush of people outside the building to aim for the front doors. But the gathering kept them back from the door as the chattering mass insisted on arguing with the host at the door. John tugged at Robert's sleeve to bring him away from the crowd as Mr. Carson appeared to calm the pulsating collective pressing forward like a dam about to break.

They wove through them, Robert pushing off one of the men who toppled toward him and scoffed at the gathering. "Some of them haven't had to endure real hardship and it shows."

"Not everyone can serve in a war Robert." John led them into the alley, slipping around a delivery truck to find the back entrance. "But I guess they're convinced they endure enough with rationing."

"Did you know they're not rationing in America anymore?" Robert followed him, dodging a precarious stack of crates. "They've already got themselves all sorted. How can we not be so sorted?"

"Might have something to do with a loss of resources after half the world decided we could sod off as far as they were concerned." John tapped a man managing a crate of bottles on the shoulder. "Have you seen James Kent?"

"Jimmy?" The man nodded toward the interior of the building. "Been in there since our shift started. He's working the floor."

"Seen a bloke shadowing him?"

"Copper?" The man swallowed and adjusted the crate when John nodded. "He's keeping to the corners but I've noticed him."

"Observant one aren't you?"

The man shrugged. "I don't want to be fetch-and-carry for the rest of my life. You've got to anticipate needs as a waiter and I want to be that."

He left them in the alley and Robert snorted. "Big dreams that one."

"At least he's got dreams." John jerked his thumb after the man. "I've had enough young people I've taken in for petty thievery with no goals or aims at all. They're aimless, groundless, and careless."

"Sometimes I wonder how you never became a poet." Robert shook his head, "We need to get to Laing."

"We could bring him out here."

"Nah, we'll just have to go in the back way."

John snorted, "You're saying it like we're sneaking in without paying."

"Aren't we?"

"I don't intend to eat anything." John ducked through the back door and only waited a moment for Robert to follow him. "And we're too old to be worried about appearances."

"You're never too old to worry about appearances." Robert rolled his shoulders and they managed the cramped corridor to get to the main dining room.

The two of them kept to the shadow of the service corridor, John leaning to eye the room. From the sweeping stairs that rounded toward the offices with etched glass depicting a swan in flight to the private rooms where they interviewed suspects only days ago, he scanned for signs of Laing. When he finally spotted him, taking a back table in full uniform and yet as inconspicuous as anyone, John nudged Robert.

"Back corner, just under the staircase."

Robert whistled softly, "I think we might've wasted him in the constabulary."

"He did allow Jimmy to get away the first time." John slid along the wall to work around the back of the room. With all the diners focused on their guests, the commotion near the front, and their own food, no one noticed the two of them slinking to Laing's table. He barely moved when they sat and only spoke after John did. "Any news?"

"He's done his job, that's all I can say." Laing pulled a small notebook from his pocket and passed it to the two other men. "I think he's nervous.

"He'd mentioned as much when we interviewed him last." John read over the notes before passing them to Robert. "If he's working something for Carlisle then he's got all the reasons in the world to be nervous."

"What do you make of his claims?" John helped slide the notebook back to Laing. "Do you think he's on the level?"

"He's not had any visitors, if that's what you're talking about, but there's a feeling here." Laing shifted in his chair, "It reminds me of… work I did in the war."

"How so?"

Laing swallowed. "I served in an advanced unit. We were dropped to aid French Resistance and you got good at spotting people plotting behind your back."

"That's a lot of pressure."

"You get it from people's nervous twitches." Laing noted the two men raised their eyebrows. "I've got some myself, for different reasons, but that makes me better at spotting them in other people."

"So it's not just that I think Jimmy there's sweating through his uniform?"

"Exactly." Laing addressed Robert as John took a slower surveil of the room. "It's about what people do when they think no one's watching. It's the unconscious motions and movements that give us away."

"Give me an example please." John muttered toward Laing while keeping his eyes on the room.

"Alright, ginger-headed waitress, just off the bar at your two o' clock. She's flirty with all the men but her shoulders get all tensed whenever they ask about a beau. Her right hand twitches toward her left, like she's going to stroke a ring there but she's got no ring and no signs anything sat on that finger."

"What does she say about it?" John finally glanced at Laing and his eyes flicked to the table.

"Claims she's a war widow but I don't believe it."

"There are plenty of women with their own misfortunes after the war." Robert sighed and managed a discrete point toward another woman. "What about her? She seems to strike a bit of fear into everyone."

"Head waitress, Ms. O'Brien, and the ginger one, Ms. Parks, is particularly terrified of her." Laing bit the inside of his cheek. "I'd hazard a guess that Ms. O'Brien might have a bit of insight into the lie Ms. Parks tells about herself."

"Potentially powerful leverage." John shifted his jaw. "What's got Jimmy so nervous? Other than the obvious, of course."

"He's always a bit more antsy when Mr. Barrow, the head waiter, comes out." Laing shook his head, "Barrow and O'Brien are thick as thieves and, if the conversation I overhead in the alley last night is true, then everyone else here hates them. Calls them 'Guy Fawkes and partner'."

"Which one's which?" Robert almost laughed but John noted the somber tone to Laing's shrug.

"No one's sure. They're both equally horrible and seem to be only out for themselves. Far as I can tell, O'Brien steers the women and Barrow the men."

"Then it's Barrow with his proverbial claws in Jimmy?"

Laing nodded again, "If Jimmy's right about 'helping a friend' then I'd put good money on Barrow being the one he's talking about."

"Weren't Barrow and O'Brien at the table that night?" Robert turned in his chair to John. "I remember interviewing her after you had to finish up my interview with Branson."

"What'd she say?"

"Nothing. Didn't even mention being a server here."

"That's because I don't think she's just a waitress." Laing untucked his notebook again and turned to a blank page to show them a simple rendering of the floor plan for the building. "I've gone over this whole place, exploring the nooks and crannies, and there are two rooms that no one but O'Brien and Barrow can access."

"Did you ask Mr. Carson about it?" John flicked his gaze to Laing before returning it to the drawing. "Maybe it's private storage."

"I haven't asked them." Laing rolled a shoulder, "Thought it might blow open that I've been watching Jimmy."

"If you thought you were being covert then one of the fetch-and-carries saw you." Robert frowned at him, "And it doesn't help that you're here in uniform."

"I'm on duty and since I'm not a detective I can't wear civilian dress." Laing waved off the worries. "And if he knows I'm watching Jimmy then it could explain why no one's directly approached him. But I've pulled back recently and Barrow's taken a few chances for some private chats with him."

"In the private room he accesses?" John pressed but Laing shook his head.

"No. They're just quick little chats between rushes and I doubt I'd understand the code words they're using."

"Why do you suspect code?"

"After the war there's a lot of veterans who used code. Some of them because police, eased into the life of doing what they did before just here. Others… They weren't so lucky. Those without jobs and trying to get over their traumas fell into bad crowds. Petty crime, organized crime, and even more sinister rackets." Laing shuddered but continued. "As such, they've got the language of the war down but now they're using it to avoid the law."

"Probably did it to avoid the law during the war too." Robert huffed. "I can't stand the unpatriotic."

"Not everyone bleeds willingly for their King, Robert." John almost chided him but tapped the floor plan instead. "Where are these rooms on this map?"

"Here," Laing removed the half-pencil and marked the spaces lightly. "And there. Just out of the way enough they could move without being seen but not in any dank corners of anything."

"Any suspicions?"

"It could be something as simple as an office where they work out the rotas but I highly doubt it."

"Alright." John examined the map a final time before clapping Robert on the shoulder. "Let's go see what's in these rooms and leave Laing to continue stalking our waiter. Hopefully one of us turns up something."

"Jimmy goes on break in half and hour. We could convene in the alley then if you're not in a hurry." Laing tucked his notebook away again, folding his pencil inside and John nodded.

"Good plan. There's a little alcove there that should keep us all out of sight and him out of too much danger." John eyed the room. "Alright, I'll go first and then you follow Robert. We'll meet back in the alley in half an hour."

They separated, Robert chatting with Laing as John left the table. He circled around toward the front of the room, as if going to leave but ducked toward the coatroom. Slipping inside, John worked his way through the crush and out the rear door back through the service corridor. Robert joined him a moment later and he made for the first of the two mysterious doors.

Both of them opened onto the hallway leading to the alley. John dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a pouch he unzipped to expose a collection of metal tools. With a wink to Robert, John crouched at the door and took two of the tools to fit carefully into the lock on the door. It clicked open in time with a grimace from John as his leg spasmed.

"You alright?" Robert pointed at John's leg as a muscle twitched enough to visibly rustle his trousers. "That going to be a bother?"

"No." John tucked the lockpick tools back into his pocket. "I just shouldn't have crouched to open the door."

"Next time I'll get you a stool."

"Funny," John turned the knob and they crept into the dark room. A flailed hand toward the wall around the door flipped a switch for the naked bulb dangling over a number of cases of marked alcohol.

"It's just a storeroom." Robert went to go but John grabbed his arm, catching mostly the tough material of his coat. "What?"

"Why's it here and not with the rest of it stored in the cellar?" John released and walked around the tight space, massaging his leg as the muscles twitched. "Jimmy did say that he occasionally helped his friend with extra alcohol."

"He also said he helped plan meetings."

John shrugged, "Reservations. He's a waiter and he could get them a table. Swanky people like Carlisle aren't known to eat at places of a lesser caliber than the Cerulean. But getting a table here's hard so what if you had someone controlling the reservations for you?"

"So Jimmy's an accessory to what? Theft and rearranging a d few dinner plans?" Robert shook his head, examining the cases. "These aren't the best vintages. I know my wines and most beers and I'll tell you that these are the cheaper ones. The kind you give people without a palate."

"Or the kind you sell the desperate at exceedingly high markup." John put his hands on his hips. "If this is the room Laing thinks belongs to Barrow then it might be safe to assume the man's a smuggler. Taking items off the inventory, or even making an inventory himself and making sure that Mr. Carson doesn't know when something's gone missing because, to him, it hasn't."

"You're giving a lot of credit to a man you don't even know."

"But you questioned him." John pointed a finger at Robert, "Did he mention working here?"

"Like O'Brien, he said nothing of the sort. Claimed to only be a guest of Carlisle for dinner and that was the end of it." Robert leaned against a stack and knocked his elbow against the wood. It thumped, the echo catching John's attention, and Robert stood straighter. "It shouldn't make that sound."

"Aren't bottles transported in cases filled with hay and sawdust to keep them from bursting during travel?" John joined Robert at the case as the other man flicked open a larger pocket knife.

"In my experience, yes." Robert wedged the blade under the lid and worked the edges to pry the wood away. Both of them sighed in disappointment as John reached to remove one of the bottles. It clanked against something and Robert frowned again. "It shouldn't make that noise."

"This box, in general, isn't making any noises it should." John held the bottle and then jerked it up and down in his grip. "And this isn't making the noises it should either."

"What if…" Robert held up a finger, knocking the knuckles of his other hand against a partition in the box. "What if it's not actually alcohol."

"What do you mean?" John flicked out his own knife and dug through the wax lining on the bottle to access the cork. "I'm sure Jimmy would know what alcohol is. He serves it every night."

"But these bottles could be something different." Robert pried up the wooden inset in the box before dragging the whole thing to the floor. "Something like this."

John gaped at the money lining the bottom of the box. "That's quite a lot of cash for someone who works as a waiter."

"I get the feeling it's not his." Robert pointed at the bottle. "What's in there?"

John popped the cork loose and turned the opening toward the box. Nothing came out and John shook harder before holding it up to the light. Tiny blobs of similar size and shape shifted and moved inside as John brought it back down. He nodded at Robert, who moved away, and John raised his other arm to cover his face as he brought the bottle down to crack on the side of the box.

The pieces of the bottle clinked away as John whistled. "I think I recognize these little baubles."

"It's white powder, what of it?"

John held one of the baggies up and shook it in Robert's direction. "This isn't just any white powder. This is an amphetamine."

"And you recognize it how?"

"Used a lot of it to try and stay awake for three days when the Japanese attacked Singapore." John sighed and tossed the baggie back into the box. "This is far more than just stealing alcohol."

"We've got a smuggling operation." Robert clicked his teeth, "Too bad we can't use what we know here."

"We'll find a way." John left the broken bottle bits and the baggies on top of the exposed money before replacing the lid. "We could hide this somewhere, make sure it stays where we can find it again."

"They've got an alcove." John hauled the box into his arms as Robert checked his watch. "We've got ten minutes."

"Think it's enough time to try and see what's behind door number two?"

Robert pursed his lips and nodded. "We might never get this chance again."

They eased into the corridor, careful to lock the door from the inside and shut off the light after they wiped their prints from the light switch and the handles on the door. John rearranged the box in his arms as Robert dug into John's pocket for the picking tools. He had the second door open in a moment and the two of them hurried inside before anyone could notice them.

For the second time they turned on the lights and surveyed what they found. John placed the crate on a chair near the door and shrugged. "I guess you can only get so lucky in one night."

"This is something." Robert knocked his knuckles against the table top and opened his arms to the room with old furniture and stacked chairs. "She's got her own private table back here with all this broken junk."

John scowled at him and paced around the edge of the room, knocking against the paneling. Robert reflected his movements on the other side of the room so they could meet in the middle. This time both of their knuckles impacts a hollow sound. They looked at one another and then pushed at the same time.

The panel swiveled around to reveal a dark space. John waved his hand over the wall on his side and found another switch for a bulb in the back of the room. A bulb shining directly over a different kind of table. Or a series of them.

"Is there an abandoned building on the back side of the Cerulean?" John worked through the space, Robert on his heels, and surveyed the green-felted table tops before narrowing his eyes at a chalkboard inscribed with names. "Some place that would allow for this?"

"Probably a bombed out space scheduled for deconstruction they just haven't gotten around to." Robert shook a finger at the board. "I recognize a few of those names from the club I attend."

"What makes them memorable?"

"Card players." Robert sucked in a breath, "Good ones until they caught them cheating. They're known card sharks and cheaters. No one'll play with them at a respectable establishment."

"So they come here." John circled the room again. "We've got Barrow, one room over, smuggling in bottles full of amphetamines and money while O'Brien runs her own private gambling ring?"

"If I didn't think they're perhaps a bit too noble to notice, I'd wonder if Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are in on take for these two operations of just too stupid to notice what's going on under their nose." Robert sighed, "What's the connection between the two?"

"Could be some of the alcohol that Jimmy smuggles, the actual alcohol, gets served here." John noted another board, "Prices for refreshment."

"I would've thought they'd pay that on arrival all the same. Make the drinks complementary."

John shook his head and searched the room for another exit. "Can't risk it. That's the only entrance and they're moving in and out through that alley."

"Or through the Cerulean itself." Robert put his hands in his pockets. "They get a reservation, like those Jimmy talked about arranging, and come through as if they're being led to a table in the back. Sneak back here and voilà, they're gambling with those no one else'll take."

"It's still a dangerous game to play under the nose of so many patrons." John directed them back to the storeroom. "Someone's got to notice."

"The only people back here during peak hours are the staff."

John groaned, "Laing was right. Barrow and O'Brien've got them all hooked around their fingers. Manipulating the staff here to do their bidding."

"Too bad it's all supposition." Robert flicked the light off and closed the swiveling panel while John hefted the crate again. "We'd need proof."

"We've got Jimmy."

"You think he'll speak up when it took me tackling him to the ground just to get him to fess up to having lied to Laing?" Robert rubbed at his knee, "Still twinges."

"Stop whining." John kept to the shadows as Robert repeated their exit from Barrow's private room with this one and they worked their way into the corridor again. "We're making progress."

"Nothing we can prove."

"Then we'll have to hope that Jimmy believes in the nobility of our cause and the greater good." John got them into the alley and moved to the alcove. Kicking aside some of the loose rubbish there, he jammed the carte behind broken pallets and covered it with the rusting lid of a rubbish can. "Safe for now."

"You'll not find much if you're looking for something in there." John and Robert turned at the sound of Jimmy's voice. "We sometimes get vagrants staying here but otherwise it's just where the detritus gathers."

"You never know." John wiped his hands on his trousers and nodded at Laing. "I see you've kept you your part of the bargain."

"I don't want to go to prison now, do I?"

"How eager are you to send someone else there?" Robert risked and Jimmy stiffened. "Because we might've found some things we've got to have probably cause to investigate."

"And you need me to rat on something here?" Jimmy shook his head. "You can follow me all you want but I know the score. Snitches end up in ditches."

"We could promise to protect you." John offered but Jimmy laughed at him.

"Protect me? You think your lot's got anything on the kind of people who work around me? Do you have any idea what they'd do if they knew I even thought about talking to you?"

"You are talking to us."

Robert's approach did nothing for Jimmy's calm. "They poisoned a man in front of a bloody dining room and you think I can just turn on them?"

"Would you swear to them poisoning Mr. Pamuk?" John stepped forward, noting the fear tinging Jimmy's eyes. "Would you tell a judge what you saw and then get into protective custody?"

Before Jimmy could say anything one way or the other a shot rang out. John ducked on instinct, a flash at the edge of his vision before a weight landed on him. Another series of shots rang out and John ducked farther but the weight on him kept him covered. It also pushed him toward the damp pavement as John tried to reach for his weapon but could barely move.

Shots closer to him rang in his ears and John rolled out from under the weight. The grunt from the mass roused John and he turned to see Laing there, holding his abdomen as his uniform darkened and shone in the weak lights from the alley. Jimmy cowered to the side, holding his hands over his head, and Robert fired around the corner of the alcove toward something occasionally shooting in their direction. But when Robert's gun clicked empty John drew his and grabbed Jimmy by the collar.

"Did you give us away?"

Jimmy could not answer as a shot hit the brickwork near their heads. They ducked out of the alley, taking temporary refuge behind some rubbish bins as Robert moved to Laing's side to press at the wound. John kept an arm over Jimmy's back to keep him bent over while firing at the flashes from the other end of the alley.

A recognizable click echoed and John tightened his hold on Jimmy to drag him behind as they dashed toward the location of the flashes. Jimmy's whimpering almost drown out all other noises but John kept him close as they closed on the location. But his gun did little good to the abandoned spot.

He turned, loosening his hold on Jimmy, and then heard another crack. John put his hands to his body but sighed as no pain blossomed over his chest. With a swallow he turned at the sound of Jimmy's grunt. His hands pushed to the side of his uniform as he went to his knees and fell to the pavement.

John kept his gun up as he crouched next to Jimmy and inspected the wound as much as he could. Jimmy whimpered and groaned as a few employees from the Cerulean entered the alley. They babbled about calling the police as John holstered his weapon and pressed on Jimmy's wound to try and staunch the flow of bleeding.

"Don't you dare die." He hissed, "You've still got to help us."

Jimmy only moaned and then cried out as someone joined them. John looked up to see Robert, his hands red with blood, and hurried past a hoarse scratch in his throat to speak. "Laing?"

Robert shook his head, "Breathed his last."

John pressed harder on Jimmy's wound.


	11. With a Shag in a Storage Closet

Anna took the seat next to John and nodded toward the room. "What did they tell you about his condition?"

"Won't last the day." John rubbed at the dried blood on his fingers as he sniffed and wiped at the tears at the edge of his eyes. "Lasted longer than Laing did but, still… Our case is dead without him. Callous or not, we needed him alive for this all to work and we need him to live but..."

"But he's not long for this world?"

John nodded, sniffing again and scrubbing harder at the blood on his hands. "Neither is our case. The moment he's gone so are we."

"There's more than one way to skin a cat." Anna put her hand over his. "Trust in that. He's not the only way."

"He was the best way."

"Perhaps." Anna nodded, "But I've not given up on the case yet and neither can you."

"I assure you, I can." John gave a half-laugh, as if trying to convince himself that he could still laugh and then finally looked at her. Really looked at her as if only just realizing she was there in person. "What brings you here?"

"I'm not always in the morgue you know. I do shifts here too." Anna shrugged, "But I heard you were here and thought I could help."

"You didn't have to."

"No, but I wanted to." She took his hands, stopping him rubbing his skin raw and still not removing the blood there. "You need sleep."

"I need a way to save this case." John sighed, "First thing my Super'll do when he can get Robert and I in the office'll be to rip us raw for making a scene of this before the Home Office, the Foreign Office, and everyone else with any kind of title does the same. By the end of the gauntlet we'll be lucky to not be shoveling literal shit with the crews in the sewers."

Anna gave a little laugh, holding his hands tighter. "You'll find a way."

"Trusting to my resourcefulness?"

"I trust the man who survived what you did." Anna held his gaze. "I trust that man's got more than an ace up his sleeve when he needs it."

"Maybe." John let his shoulders sag under the weight of his activities. "Have you got anything on your end?"

"I've got myself an invitation to a little dinner being thrown by Lord Sinderby." Anna bit at the edge of her lip. "I've got space for a plus one, if you're interested in helping me confront the inventor."

"You think he'll have any ideas?"

Anna shrugged, "It won't hurt to ask." She let a smile creep over her lips, "And he's Jewish so he's got more than enough money to pay for an excellent cook that'll make the dinner better than most I have in the course of this job."

"Do you find yourself eating many dinners for this job?"

"Some. It depends on what conference they'll have us attend and who wants to try and get something out of our department."

"I'm more than a little bothered that there are people-"

"Not like that." Anna frowned at him and John held up his hands in defense. "We're not in the market of selling bodies. And even if we were, there's not enough money to justify the chance that I'd go to prison for it."

"You'd risk prison for it?"

"If there was enough gain, maybe." Anna went to laugh but stopped, poking John in the arm. "Wasn't he one of the men you questioned at the Cerulean?"

John turned to look down the corridor and Anna noted the way his shoulders stiffened. He stood in a rush and she hurried to copy his motion as the man with dark hair, perfectly styled, approached them. Blue eyes that she suspected spent more time sparkling with a devious intention than the guilty regret that edged them now, could not meet either of their gazes while flicking toward the room where John's lead stuttered to continue breathing.

"Is he… Is he going to…" The man coughed, clearing his throat but could neither meet John's eyes nor finish his sentence.

"If you're asking about whether or not he's going to live, the answer is no." John kept none of the venom from his voice. "The doctors say he's not got a chance of surviving the day. The bullets struck close to his heart. Frankly it's a miracle he survived this long."

"I… Yes, yes it is." The man swallowed and turned to Anna, extending his hand when he noted the blood on John's. "Thomas Barrow, head waiter at the Cerulean Swan."

"Here to support your colleague in his time of need?" Anna shook once and released, pointing toward the door. "You two must be close."

Barrow flailed a moment before succumbing to a shrug. "Close enough, I guess. We got on and that was more than I could say for my other colleagues."

"Then I'm sure you appreciate that he's dying because of what you involved him in." John put a hand on Barrow's arm and steered him toward the door. "Perhaps, with your guilty conscience, you'd like to apologize to him as he wheezes his last."

"I…" Barrow tried to work himself out of John's grip as the larger man took hold of Barrow's lapels and shoved him against the wall hard enough to rattle the door. "I don't know what you're-"

"Don't play games with me. I've not got the time and I'm sure as Hell not in the mood." John's voice growled slightly and Anna inspected the corridor to insure they were alone. "I've seen your secret study, Barrow, and I know you're smuggling in something more than low class alcohol and you did more than have Jimmy help you nick from the stores at the Cerulean."

Barrow's eyes widened and his hands pushed at John's but John did not slacken his grip. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't feel guilty. If you didn't know that whatever this is, whatever got my constable killed and landed Jimmy in that room, you wouldn't be here." John finally loosened his grip but crowded Barrow into the wall. "What is all this Barrow? What've you gotten yourself into? What killed Kemal Pamuk that night at the Cerulean?"

Barrow's eyes whizzed about before he finally swallowed. "Richard Carlisle got him killed and I… I got Jimmy killed."

John stepped back and Barrow brushed at his jacket, as if forcing out the wrinkles might restore some of his dignity. "But I didn't kill anyone. I never had a hand in any of that."

"Interesting comment." Anna crossed her arms over her chest. "Why make a point of mentioning it?"

Barrow glanced at her but continued looking at John. "Someone else had them killed. I just… I just stood by while it happened."

"Important distinction." John snorted, "Separates the evil for whom you work from the coward that you are."

Barrow dropped his head and Anna shrugged, "Better to know which kind of person you're dealing with I guess."

"I…" Barrow struggled for words. "I got into the racket with the alcohol through a friend of mine from the war. We served in the medical corps together and he mentioned there's money to be had in the alcohol business. Since I handled the books I thought it wouldn't be too difficult to fudge a few numbers and earn myself a bit on the side."

"Must've worked well if you continued it." John took a moment, his fingers twitching as if helping him count. "A number of those crates were the alcohol you slipped off the shipments. The ones you knew were coming but you worked all the books so Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes thought they were paying for premium vintage but really you covered all those costs and took the overhead and the remainder for yourself."

Barrow nodded, "It was lucrative enough and grew big enough that I got noticed. Noticed by people who wanted me to work with them."

Anna shifted her jaw, "In my experience, they didn't ask nicely when they solicited your services, did they?"

"They… It wasn't really a request." Barrow shuddered, "They blackmailed me. Said they could ruin me if they wanted to."

"It's no more than you deserved." John ground out but gathered himself. "What did you start doing?"

"Moving the drugs. A few at a time hidden in the bottom of the crates."

"But now they're in the bottles." John waved off Barrow's shocked expression, "Just tell me when they devised the system with the drugs and the money in the crates but no alcohol."

"They realized that a number of crates, if declared on the manifests, will only be checked under certain circumstances. Complaints, tips, and new product. Given the consistency of the shipments it was easy for them to slip in the additional crates in orders big enough that no one's going to open every crate to check them." Barrow sighed, "They realized they could reuse the bottles that we recycle out and use the space more wisely."

"Wisdom isn't a word I'd use for any of this." John sighed, "Who found you? Who hired you for this?"

Barrow shook his head, "If I tell you then I'm as good as dead. Even telling you this much is a threat to my life."

"And what about Jimmy's life?" John thrust his arm toward the door and Anna noted Barrow's cringe. "Is his less than yours?"

"I…" Barrow dropped his gaze and John scoffed.

"He's an idiot, for trusting you, but you're even worse. Worse because you knew what would happen to him and yet got him involved all the same." John shook his head at Barrow, "If you're not going to do it for yourself and that conscience I'm sure is as heavy as any of those crates, then perhaps you should think about doing it for the man your greed killed."

When Barrow did not answer, John went to say something else but Anna grabbed his arm. "I think this evening's been exciting enough as it is. Perhaps we should leave Mr. Barrow with his thoughts."

John nodded and handed Barrow his card. "If you happen to find your conscience, call that number."

They started to walk away as Barrow called after them. "Green. Alex Green was the one who hired me to help move his drugs."

"And you'd swear to that?"

Barrow flicked his eyes toward Jimmy's room and nodded. "I'd swear to it."

"Then, when you're finished here, come by the station and give a full statement." John extended his hand and Barrow winced before taking it. "Perhaps there's hope for you after all, Mr. Barrow."

"I don't think there's anything for me." Barrow took their seats and stared at the door to Jimmy's door.

John almost went back to him but Anna tugged his arm. "Leave him be. You've got enough for right now. And he's got more than enough to think about for the moment. Leave him to it."

John sighed and nodded, "What do you suggest then?"

"We get you home so you can wash and change out of those clothes I recognize from my flat." Anna winked him, "And I'm sure your mother wants to remember that you exist."

"If you take me home then she'll know that you exist."

Anna shrugged, "Would that be a bad thing?"

"I barely know you myself and if I bring you back to mine then she'll assume I've been hiding you away." John looked around, "Besides, you've just gotten yourself off a long shift and I'm sure you'd like some sleep."

"You might be surprised to know that I'd like to sleep with you again."

John grinned, "I did enjoy our time in your bathroom yesterday afternoon."

"You performed admirably in the bedroom yesterday morning too." Anna patted his arm, "But my point is, I think we need to regroup somewhere else."

"Something wrong with your flat?"

"It doesn't have a change of clothes for you."

"Mine wouldn't have clothes for you."

"Given that I cut into bodies on a daily basis, I think you'll need to acknowledge that I'm a bit more prepared for a day away from home." Anna directed them to a locker room where she extracted a bag from one of the metal lockers. "Can't risk going home smelling like formaldehyde."

"No, I'd think not." John looked over himself and pulled a toothbrush out of his pocket. "I never leave home without this."

"Thank heavens for that."

"I didn't think you were so set on the idea of a travel toothbrush." John replaced it in his coat as Anna checked the corridor again.

"It allows me to do this." She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him briefly on the lips. "Now I feel a bit more fulfilled."

"A bit?" John pointed to the room behind them. "What's in there?"

"Storage closet I think." Anna's eyes narrowed, "Why?"

"Because I don't think I'd want to try and take you all the way to my home with myself out of sorts and complete indecent for the public." John opened the door, peeked his head in quickly and pulled her along after him.

The dimness of the room, the only light filtering through the cracks in the ill-fitting door, had Anna pressed against John's chest while he struggled to find a light switch. But it took his head knocking against the chain dangling from the ceiling to find the pullcord for the bare bulb. A flicker of yellow light that threatened to dim had them both freezing a moment but once Anna dropped her bag on top of a wrapped pile of paper hand towels there was no more delay.

His hands wrapped her waist to hold her in place against the door and Anna tipped her head just enough for their lips to meet. She expected speed and urgency, given his need for the nearest available space, but John moved slowly. Lips molded and shaped around hers for a minute before he teased her lips with his tongue.

Anna gave a small moan and opened enough for John to slip his tongue between her lips and suck at hers. Her hands grasped for his jacket, holding herself to him while her back arched and the vibration from his chest fed into the rumbling feeling in her own. But just as John sought to go deeper he paused, drawing back but letting his teeth pull at her lower lip.

She tried to pull him back but John shook his head, running his finger along her cheek as he found her eyes in the harsh light of the naked bulb above them. "I think I was taking advantage of a situation."

"What?" Anna's fingers found a better hold on his jacket and tugged him toward her so both of John's hands landed flat on the door beside her. "Taking advantage of what situation?"

"Do you want this?"

Anna almost rolled her eyes and sacrificed a hold on his jacket with one hand to cup him through his trousers. John jerked in her grip and Anna grinned before snapping his belt loose and bringing down his zipper. "Will this answer your question satisfactorily?"

He groaned, his forehead hitting the door beside her head when Anna almost toppled them over in her hurry to bring down his trousers and pants. They caught around his ankles but both of Anna's hands had the free space to work. Work enough to wrap her hand around him, squeezing until his face scrunched and he bit down hard enough to leave his lower lip white.

She drew back slightly but his sigh of relief did not last long enough for the breath to do anything but hiss through his teeth when she manipulated her other hand over his sack. He twisted and rocked into her hold as Anna worked her hands in different motions to the same purpose. A purpose that only left John barely able to contain his sounds when she dropped to her knees on the unforgiving floor. But there were places for her to replace her hosiery later.

Now, she intended on tasting him.

John's hips jerked and Anna sacrificed the hand holding the part of him she could not reach to dig into his hip. Her mouth moved over him, swallowing as much as she could before grazing her teeth over him when she suckled his tip. The dip of her tongue into the slit, or manipulating it around the folds of skin that defined him, or dragging it along the vein that pulsed in time with the swelling of him had John's legs shaking from effort. And had she more time- and a bed- she could leave him calling out to the heavens above before she stopped.

However, even with the glorious reminder of the power she could hold over a man, Anna wanted more than his taste on her tongue. She gave a final suck, the deep pull into her throat leaving him ragged in breathing and body, and got to her feet. Stood to accept the attack her mouth made on hers that allowed her to succumb to his more animalistic side. In such a state there was no room for doubt about whether or not they both wanted what was coming.

Their teeth clacked together, the force of their mouths moving faster and faster as they struggled to get rid of the impediments in their way. Anna thought she heard a shredding noise and the wisping of her hosiery hanging around her legs solved the problem of darning them later. Her knee bent up and John's hands gripped hard on her thighs to pull her up high enough to wrap around his waist. Their hands batted against one another as they shoved her skirt out of the way.

Anna bent back to try and bring John closer but his fingers wrapped around her knickers to pull them to the side. A strain on stitching had Anna wondering if her knickers or her skirt would be in tatters before they finished but lost all coherent thought when John's fingers pushed deep into her. They stroked inside of her while his thumb pressed hard on her clit in conjunction with the stroke of his erection along her weeping folds.

Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders and she frantically sought for his lips, bringing them together so she could take control of his mouth. Their tongues tangled, Anna sucking deeply to try and bring John over the edge before he could do the same to her. Neither of them lasted long enough for that as John broke the kiss, removed his fingers, and drove into her.

A vague part of her, the biologically relevant portion not lost in the determined thrust of John's hips against hers, wondered if anyone could hear them in the corridor. The part of her worried about self-preservation debated the likelihood she would keep her job if she were found shagging in the storage closet. And the overwhelming part of her enjoying the piston of John's hips driving into her more deeply with every spread of her legs and the used to bring his body closer to hers wondered how any of that could ever matter.

His fingers dug bruises into her thighs and Anna tightened them around her hips while using her shoulders against the door to try and tilt her body so he could strike all those places inside her that she wanted singing with him. John's frenetic pace kept them both from speaking, air barely filling their lungs enough to keep them standing, so it took Anna sacrificing her stabilizing hold on his shoulder to snake between them. Her fingers pressed and rubbed at an odd angle, folding her elbow back toward her body as she tried to reach the spot she needed. But she found it and stroked over herself to reach that tempting pinnacle.

When she broke in his hands, under their combined intentions, Anna hurried to bring his mouth back to hers. Breathing was inconsequential when she needed somewhere to hide the noises she made as she came. John responded eagerly, as if agreeing that breathing was not as necessary as the kisses they shared with more rapidity than sensuality, and soon joined her in burying the growling grunt of his finish in her mouth when her fingers brushed against him.

They settled with stuttering motions that knocked the door in its jamb but neither of them was cognizant enough of it to care. Anna's legs unlatched from around John's waist and she set them on the floor, holding fast to his jacket when she wobbled slightly in her heels. But John barely fared better as his hands slid and gripped at the door to keep himself from sinking to the floor.

After a moment, dispelling their heavy breathing as the only sound in the store closet, Anna spoke. "I don't suppose you'd find it too self-serving to ask if my hair is out of place?"

John snickered and shook his head, "Of all the damage I think I did to you, your hair's the least of your worries."

"But people will see it." Anna patted her hair before pulling it loose to pull back and out of the way. "They're not going to see the bruises you left on me."

"I left-"

"Bruises I'll remember with all the fondness of someone who thoroughly enjoyed getting them." Anna winked at him and tugged her skirt around in a complete circle to check for tears. "You saved my skirt."

"Not your hose." John pointed and then gaped as Anna stepped out of her shoes to remove the hose completely and tug her knickers down as well. "Anna?"

"They're torn." She shoved them in the bin next to the door and turned for him. "Can you see anything?"

"I…" He coughed, "Nothing."

"Good." Anna winked at him, "Then it'll be our little secret."

John could only continue staring at her, open-mouthed- as Anna reached to pull up his pants and trousers. When she tried to find a better hold her fingers brushed him. Her eyebrows went up but John only smiled and spun her about so her hands were on the door. His hands ran down her, molding her blouse and skirt to her body as he went to her now bare legs.

"I hope you don't mind the position."

"What?" Anna blinked, trying to clear the fug from her mind that wafted in with each stroke of his fingers against her legs, bringing his touch higher and higher until his hands kneaded at the flesh of her ass and her skirt hung forward on her hips. "What would I…"

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." John continued his massage, holding her to him as his body blanketed hers, his chest expanding with each deep breath to set the pace for her breathing. "This is… a bit different."

"Not if you consider yesterday afternoon, in my bathroom." Anna tried to laugh but John's fingers ran through her damp folds and smeared the wetness there around her clit to press and worry it until she writhed and whined under him.

"But I didn't have time to do this yesterday afternoon." He murmured against her neck before going to his knees. "I'd hate to leave you wanting."

"Bloody hell!" Anna's fingers curled against the door and she pressed her forehead hard enough to leave a red spot there as John's tongue licked around his fingers. Her legs spread, guided by his persistent hands, and he used the flat of his tongue along her seam.

Unlike her bathroom, there was nowhere for her hands to grab so Anna satisfied herself with holding her skirt. It pulled and tugged around her hips but the material wrapping around her fingers allowed her to try and control herself from frantically rocking her hips against John's skilled mouth and fingers. But it proved pointless as she did it anyway and soon succumbed to the rolling pleasure.

Her breasts pressed against the door with each deep breath she tried to haul into her lungs as John moved behind her. The line of his erection spread her folds around him as he pushed forward slowly, dragging the length of him along her until Anna panted and keened for him. With no more than a whine to move him forward, John's hands grabbed Anna's hips and he drove forward.

Anna's hands beat against the door as she caught herself, pressing back with her hips to better meet John's thrusts, and tried to dig for a hold in the artificial wood for a hold. But from her current angle, all she could do was reach blindly for John's trousers and hold there for support. And when his mouth started leaving a trail of kisses along her exposed neck Anna turned toward him and seized control of his mouth. An earlier worry was for her hair but, as she conquered his mouth in direct response to his thrusts into her, Anna wondered if she should've worried about John's hair instead.

He broke the kiss, taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth as he whispered to her. "It's tighter this way Anna. I thought so in the bathroom but now… I think I like you better this way. Every motion is tighter and hotter. It's like being… engulfed in deliciously wet flames."

"John," Anna's fingers tightened in his trousers until she wondered if she could get sensation in her hand any longer. "Don't tease."

"There's no teasing." One of his hands moved from her hip to her clit, caressing and pressing there. "I couldn't tease you when your ass is sitting perfectly in the crux of my hips, when I can get deeper than before, and when you're clinging to me so tightly."

Anna twisted against him, spreading her legs just enough to take him even deeper. She tried to press her face to the wood of the door, to seek the possibility of a moment of coolness when her whole body was on fire, but John's words continued on their sensual stream in her ear. All the while his fingers and motions taunted her body higher and higher.

"I'd imagine your other… paramours did something similar."

"Jealousy doesn't suit you." Anna almost laughed but could only moan as John maneuvered his hips to strike a spot inside. "There. Right there. Faster."

"Faster?"

"Harder, deeper, whatever it takes. Just… Right there."

John obeyed without another word and Anna toppled over the edge in a rush of color. It sparked before her eyes and almost blinded her to the flickering yellow of the light above them. And when John finished it was all they could do, once again, to remain standing in the tiny storage closet.

He stepped back and dug around in something before returning to her. Anna hissed when he ran a cool cloth over her legs and folds, almost tempting her toward another orgasm before pulling back. But the kiss of his lips at the rise of her ass before pulling her skirt back over her legs told her John would not have minded.

"Incubus." Anna accused, snatching the cloth from him in the moment he had to try and act affronted. But he sighed and gave a little groan of his own when she cleaned over him. "Trying to get another one from me."

"Not as though you're not trying to tempt me into another, minx." John's hands closed over hers as she brought his trousers and pants back to his hips. "Don't think I forget so easily the women who drop to their knees to use their mouths."

"Had many of those have you?" Anna zipped up his trousers but left his belt to him, tossing the rag into a bag for washing. "Greedy bastard."

"You're the one who claimed Italian and French lovers."

Anna winced, "Please don't use that word?"

"Why?" John paused, "Did I-"

"I just don't like that word. It's… It grates on my ear the same way the term 'making love' does and I hate it."

John sniggered, "You've got an opinion about the words to use when you-"

"Don't you?"

"Can't say I've had the chance to talk about it beyond one of the cruder terms my ex-wife liked to use." John cringed, "It fit though. When we… We weren't exactly the most gentle or loving when we…"

"Shagged?"

"Still better than the word she used." John collected himself and patted at his hair. "Can't say it ever felt as good as what we just did."

"I'm not the one worried about jealousy or comparison." Anna grabbed for her bag, "Best get you home for a change then. You probably smell like hospital cleaner now."

"And sex."

Anna gave a little smile, "I happen to like that smell."

"You do?"

"Better on you than…" Anna made a point of scrunching up her face like she was thinking hard about something. "Than my other _paramours_."

John sighed, "I'll never live that down."

"No," Anna swayed her hips, "But I never met their mothers… Or went home with them without knickers on so consider yourself above average."

They walked to the bus station together, lucky to escape the closet without anyone noticing and hurrying from the hospital before John could manage to swat Anna's ass… although he tried. She clicked her teeth at him, leaning on the pole as the morning rush to get to businesses and occupations ran in contrast to their own schedules winding down for twelve hours. "Are you the kind of man who glories in a bit of pain?"

"It's not pain if it's consensual." John shrugged a shoulder, "There were… clubs in Singapore that we investigated once where people would voluntarily strap themselves up so someone else could use a… variety of devices on them for the purpose of arousing them through pain."

"Sounds a bit frightening."

"If done incorrectly and without the right permissions it would be but there are those in the world who find gratification from causing pain and those gratified by taking pain." John shook his head, "It's not for me but if others want it and they're considerate about it then who am I to judge another?"

"What an odd way to use the Bible." Anna pointed at the bus, "How long, on this one, to your mother's house?"

"It'll be…" John closed his eyes, thinking a moment, "Twenty minutes."

"Interesting." Anna teethed her lip. "Want a seat up top?"

"It's freezing."

"Then we won't be disturbed." Anna stepped toward him as the bus pulled to a stop before them, her hand falling to his trousers to run a stripe along him as John shivered. "I don't think you'll want an audience."

They paid for their tickets and Anna led the way to the top. Both of them shivered but ignored the shakes of the heads of the other passengers wondering about the insanity of the patrons risking the exposed top of the bus in this weather. But Anna guided John to a side seat and had him sit down as she did the same.

The moment the bus moved Anna's hand settled on his trousers and began rubbing along the awakening line of him. John's eyes widened but Anna only smiled, twisting toward his mouth and kiss him as her hands made short work of his zipper and belt so her hand could grasp him. John gasped into their kiss and then groaned, his hands cupping around her neck to kiss her deeper as her hand worked a bit more furiously over him so he might rise to the occasion.

John's tongue worked over her mouth, trying to find a way to express the sensations her hand caused over him while keeping his composure. Not that it did him much good as a rock of the bus sent Anna's hand tighter around him. Tight enough to leave them both moaning together into a kiss they deepened by slanting their heads at just the right angle.

Anna shifted, moving over him to spread her legs on either side of his seat but John stopped her. It broke their kiss and Anna frowned but John's arms crossed to grab opposite hips and settled her across his lap so she sat on it looking out at the scenery of the city. Not that either of them gave a damn about the city. Especially not when John scooted Anna back over his lap, pushed up her skirt, and spread the fabric over his lap and hands. Hands he used to hold her hips still while one played over her clit and folds. And hands that kept her in place as he sawed himself between her folds.

It only took a bend in her knees to bring her up far enough to adjust their position. And then she sank down on him. Her teeth almost cut a hole through her lips and she tried not to scream to the passing city about being shagged on the upper level of a bus. But she did not care as John's hips pushed into hers.

Despite the fact only John knew their destination and that anyone could see them at any time, John kept the motions slow. Anna's fingers wrapped around the bar on the side of the bus and held tightly there as John continued moving, taunting her with delicate, barely-there touches to her frazzled nerves. But two played at that game when she rocked her hips or ground down on him to bring him even deeper inside of her. All of it a game they played at the risk, this time, of arrest.

But as they approached a stop, John's speed increased. His fingers moved with more skill, more finesse, and greater focus until Anna panted and left marks in his trousers from her nails when she came. John was not far behind her, his hands holding her so tightly to him they might have fused, and leaving her moaning quietly at his finish. A moan he echoed into her shoulder when he bit through the fabric of her blouse.

It took a moment, John's handkerchief doing the work of the cloth from the storage closet, before they settled into their seats. Anna reached for the material but John only folded it up and tucked it into his pocket, winking at her as he sorted himself to look publicly decent again. "Wouldn't want to give you anymore lewd and provocative ideas."

"Can you really bemoan any of those things when you obviously enjoyed it?"

"Anna," John shifted to look at her, shivering now from the chill and not pleasure. "I'd take you on my desk at the office if I could. Hell, I'd strip naked and let you have me on the pavement but we've also got reputations and lives to think about. No matter how much I enjoyed it, there's got to be sense in pleasure."

"If you're still thinking then it wasn't done right."

John raised a finger, "Not for men. We're animals before we have it and then clear afterward. Women, like yourself, are devilishly collected before and then hazily content afterward. It's a conversation of energy."

"Please," Anna grabbed his arm, increasing her affect to be more dramatic. "Continue speaking scientifically to me. I'll be putty in your hands."

"Later." John kissed one of her hands and sighed. "The question now is what we do about all this."

"Continue doing it as often and as well as possible." Anna shrugged, "What else would we do?"

"I was thinking," John shook his head but Anna noted the smile there, "We still barely know one another. And, as attractive as you are and as much as I've enjoyed the company we've shared, I don't think we could be anything more to one another than attractive acquaintances at the moment."

"You're about to introduce me to your mother."

"Because you insisted."

"I did." Anna nodded and then took a breath. "Perhaps we could be more to one another."

"That usually comes with time."

"We've got time." Anna held up her watch, "About twelve hours of it."

"You know what I mean."

Anna settled in her seat, silent a moment, before risking a thought. "Perhaps, Mr. Bates, we should both be honest with one another."

"How'd you mean?"

"We know that what we've shared, physically and verbally, with one another is different from anything anyone's ever known about us." Anna risked a little smile, "Foreign paramours included."

"Alright." John nodded, "Go on."

"And, with our schedules, it's not exactly conducive to the two of us finding anyone we might consider, 'normal'. Yes?"

"Still following."

"Then, perhaps Mr. Bates," Anna took his hand. "We should consider the idea that you and I are perhaps the best suited for one another and proceed as if we hope this continues."

"Even given my background?"

"One failed marriage does not a pattern make."

"But it should give you pause."

"I didn't hear you pause when I mentioned that I've had multiple partners before." Anna kept her face serious. "If you're not bothered by the idea that I wasn't 'untouched' when I met you, then I think people like you and I can dispense with the worries that other people have about these sorts of things."

"The kind of worries people in a conservative society have in regards to marriage and sexual relations?"

"Exactly." Anna smiled, "You told me your parents married after a three-day shore leave."

"And?"

"I do hope the reason you keep trying to put me at arms-length is because you have the mistaken impression that your mother would disapprove."

"My mother'll love you." John stood as they neared another stop and snatched Anna's bag before she could grab it. "I'm more worried about what your parents would think if you told them you were already steady with a man my age, in my marital position, and with my job."

"They're not here to worry about it and since I've not got a maidenly aunt then we can pretend this is you, being a gentleman, giving me all the good reasons to stay away from you before you begin to serenade me with _Baby It's Cold Outside_."

John took his turn to grin, "I'm sure it'd be you singing that song to me, Ms. Smith, as you've been nothing but persistent."

"I know what I want."

John stopped, taking her hand. "And I know what I want as well." He kissed it, "And, one day, I'll ask you properly I'm sure."

"I hope so." Anna followed him down a few winding streets before John knocked on the door to a small house. It flew open to reveal a woman half John's size who immediately brightened at his presence before babbling in a language Anna could not follow.

John responded in the same language before turning to Anna, "Ms. Anna Smith, meet my mother. Mother, this is Anna."

"Oh," The woman's heavily accented English came through as she took Anna's hand. "I do hope you'll stay for breakfast."

Anna flicked her eyes at John, "It'd be my pleasure."

"And, apologies, I was speaking the language of Eire since you never know who around here's listening."

"I told you, Mother," John followed them inside, shutting the door as Anna allowed Mrs. Bates to lead her down the hall to the kitchen. "No one's listening."

"Says the boy who didn't live through the uprising or the fight we had to win our freedom from the English bastards." Mrs. Bates ducked her head at Anna, "No offense intended dear."

"None taken, speaking as an English bastard myself."

Mrs. Bates laughed and pointed at Anna while addressing John, "She's got fire this one. I hope you can handle her."

"He's proven very effective in that regard." Anna kept her smile steady as John choked into a series of racking coughs. "Can I help with anything?"

"Yes," Mrs. Bates nodded, "Definitely a keeper."


End file.
